My Feet Need Shoes, Too Poem by John Sensele

Life in a shack
Mouths galore
Little food to pack and crack
Wealthy and healthy folklore.

Tycoons grab land
Squatters in the cold spend nights
Cancer of the bile gland
The voiceless for scraps entertain fist fights.

Green vegetables confiscated
Street vendors scamper
Famine fabricated
Near future, no dolls and teddy bears to pamper.

Flavours of hunger hunt
Famished babies
No poverty stunt
In shacks infested by scabies and rabies

Despite urchins' urns
Granaries yawning
Breadwinner little wage earns
Astonishing!