The 3rd World

The 3rd world

The 3rd World

Think of all the people,
In the 3rd world forsaken,
Onlookers of brutality,
Feeling terrified and shaken.
While we sit comfortable,
Only on TV we see violence,
While they listen to bloodshed,
We can go to sleep in silence.
They pray at night,
To end their pain and sorrow,
We pray at night,
To win the lottery tomorrow.
We have amazing health care,
We can go whenever we need to go,
They have next to no healthcare,
Which means their life expectancy is low.
Plagued with diseases,
People are left there to die,
Parents watch their children waste away,
And all they can do is cry.
That would never happen here,
Every child deserves to live,
But the power is out of our hands,
All we can do is give.
Without any electricity,
At night they sit in the dark,
Only when the gun fire starts,
Will they ever see a spark.
Their land is a waste ground,
Infested with pollution,
Children searching for food,
And we have no solution.
There’s no education there,
No one can read or write,
Children with no prospects,
This is just not right.
Malnourished and unhappy,
They may have to go days without a meal,
While we can just order a take-away,
Can you imagine how they feel?
They drink dirty water,
While we waste litres every day,
They are the meaning of poverty,
We are different in every way.
But we are all humans,
Its unfair our lives are so different,
But it will stay the same,
As any change seems so distant.
They have next to nothing,
While we get the latest in technology,
Neglected from the life they deserve,
They are owed more than an apology…

A Poem By Corey Booth – 14/08/13
Twitter – @CoreyPoetry …… 🙂

A Homeless Child

A Homeless Child

The child wanders the streets,
day after day,
With only tattered clothes on his back,
And no where to stay,

Affection is now a memory,
From his family he got deserted,
Now he has to it on his own,
Even though he don’t deserve it,

It’s a daily struggle,
Just to find something to eat,
With holes in his shoes,
The rubbles hurting his feet,

Searching through trash,
Begging in the town,
People just turn a blind eye,
Which is getting him down,

At nights he’s a target,
To older men he’s easy pray,
He would keep his eyes open,
As in the cold he would lay,

The charity soup kitchen,
He can go to twice a week,
Full of people with addictions,
He feels to scared to even speak,

Avoiding daily abuse,
Because he’s to weak to fight,
Unhygienic and unhealthy,
With no civil or economic right,

Always witnessing violence,
Sometimes he’s on the receiving end,
Alone with no one to talk to,
At nights he prays for a friend,

In the winter its tough,
Through his ripped clothes he’s cold,
He thinks he will have this life,
Until he gets grey and old,

Him and 100 million others,
Are going through this pain,
Children getting abandoned,
Again and again.


A Poem By Corey Booth – 25/04/12