The Voice of Poverty. by RainRev You cry over spilt milk, I cry over spilt blood. You cry because christmas never comes early,I cry because christmas never comes. You cry because you can never see the sun, I cry because I can feel the sun. I can feel the sharp burn it delivers. You cry because of petty romances, I cry because I want a hug. A hug from my HIV dead mother. A hug from my Malaria dead father. A hug from my Hungry dead sister. A hug from my Thirsty dead brother.
Posted on: Tue, 03 Dec 2013 14:02:54 +0000
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