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Turn on your TV, What do you see? A child, Trapped. Not by the bars of school, But by the bars of poverty. Never to learn how to hold a pen, But they'll learn how to hold a gun.
The Tiny Kitchen Maid By Kaelynn Calac She be nimble, she be small Her smile bright, complection dull With eyes of ice and hair of straw That Tiny Kitchen Maid She works all day, spares her play
Every time you turn on the TV There’s more bad news. It's so easy to ignore When it's not affecting you. People are suffering. Children are dying. When justice can no longer win
Children starving, children dying. While the world just sits there, thriving. Living in their own worlds,
We are migratory kids, From our own native home, End up in cities looking for life, Strive here and there for life and food, Sleep and live under bridge and streets,