Ghettos cry,
Constantly my pens bleeds ,
Bleeds words and tears in poverty, just of my head i rotate a story,
Story of the slum and our extinct lives,
To be told and never erase.
Heaven do us a favor,
Take our lives so we never vote,
Never vote to enrich others, as our lives remain cripple my sadness and injustice,
we have no hope.
Dark pages in my head are full of shadows , sketching a tool elite above, as genocide and starvation manage the slums.
Ghettos also elects,
We made the states but have no joy at all, knowing that this world education pays the rich while poor get separated.
In the slums we dreams,
Dream just of the future,
To built and compete, just to feel inflation blow, knocking our heads,
Beating our back,
Leading us to a land unknown,
Facing threats and wars effects,
The more poor we are, the more victimized we get.
Lord help the slums,
Help the kids and wounded family,
Help the orphan and single parent, coz the ghettos is our cry and no one cares.
Ur fav poet
Mos mos
©mosmod
M