A Child Of Poverty Poem by Stacy Vidal

Famished, feculent, and sick,
A child was lying above the dirtiest slick.
People run towards hoping it's alive,
What a shame they cannot revive.

A child born on the slums of poverty,
Life's unfair in the life of misery.
For the basic needs are hard to find,
Especially a job for them to grind.

A child wakes up early in their grey faction,
Hoping for an act of compassion.
From people who have prosperous lives,
Hoping for a grub to her to arrive.

A woman approaches the shivering child,
Offering her leftover, which was piled.
Her eyes shimmer as she looks upon the meal,
She gave her warmest thanks with a feeling of thrill.

Going home with her brightest smile,
Walking barefoot on the filthy pile.
She sits as her hunger babble,
But little did she know she was in trouble.

People in their faction envy her good,
Before eating it, some kids stole it for good.
With her little strength, she chased them,
Without knowing about their barbarism.
They circled her like a lost lamb,
Then came towards her like a ram.
Because of their desperate and horrible life,
Taking one's life to stay alive.

They beat her like a flat piece of meat,
While she struggles with taking a retreat.
They were ruthless, coldhearted, and inhumane,
All for the sake of food to sustain.

Time was fast, and so was their torture,
Within a few minutes, there was no sign of gesture.
No more pulse, no more breath,
Only a cold body of a little girl who's dead.

Aside from living in a life of misery,
One must also live a life of treachery.
Where injustices live on every corner,
And this is poverty, a life of danger.