Suzanne HIll

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The Best Poem Of Suzanne HIll

Poverty

Begging, begging, will you please give me food?
Their eyes are big ovals,
their lips chapped,
they litter the street.

Poverty means destruction,
destruction means fear.
While we sit in our homes,
feeling so safe.
Do we ever wonder whats going on out there?

its not our concern, is it?
He's not our race, why should we care?
For one day, we might be the ones sitting out there.

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