Face Of The Poor Poem by James McLain

The boot on their neck and fortune's cold disdain,
The faces of the poor, bears the scars of all their pain.
Unseen, unheard, their struggles they endure,
Silent echoes of a world of hurt impure.

Children's dreams, like fragile glass, may break,
Left to navigate a harsh, unforgiving wake.
In cells, not cradles, some destinies unfold,
A tale of injustice, untold, yet bold.

Yet, within each tear, resilience takes its stand,
A symphony of hope amid a desolate land.
Let empathy weave a path to mend,
For in shared compassion, our humanity transcends.