by Angela S. Young

Created on: December 08, 2008   Last Updated: October 05, 2010

Loudly growls the prowling beast,

Gnawing on, till its victim has ceased.

A constant reminder, chased by fear;

Each day its ugly head it will rear.

No food for the hungry, no warmth for the cold

No hope to the living, their story untold.

A child lives in poverty, his needs unmet;

His stomach is bloated, his eyes deeply set.

He doesn't want much, just some food and a bed,

A crust for his stomach, a place for his head.

So little, so frail, fearing wolves at the door,

His small hand extended, asking for more.

So little to please him, and yet we sleep on;

Too busy to see, as another one's gone.

Will we ever wake to their hungry cries?

Or will we sleep on while another one dies?

Learn more about this author, Angela S. Young.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.