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by Emma
Rated: · Other · Other · #1401981
Poverty poetry.
My name is Maxwell.
I am three.
I got hit by a train this morning.
Now I can't see.
My wound is bleeding.
Yet it's just a stain.
On the covered streets.
Crawling with pain.
My mum is dead.
My sister is dying.
My brother passed away.
I can't stop crying.
One simple thing,
Can change my life.
A donation a month
Will make me survive.
My name is Maxwell.
I died when I was three.
I doesn't make a difference.
I could not see.

STOP POVERTY NOW!
MAKE POVERTY HISTORY, A BETTER WORLD FOR YOU AND ME.
© Copyright 2008 Emma (universal at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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