The wind blows
The baby cries
People die
Deaths are untold
Land is desolate
Nothing here grows
People living
For the sight of a food bowl
Trapped in existence
It's hard to think
That such people really exist
Hard to believe
Their plight is accepted
When money so wasted could be re-directed
They're not some race that don't feel pain
Starvation is something you don't become immune to
Song For Them
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