A River of Trash

There is a place

Where the trees were green and the children played chase.

Where hardship came

and things were never the same.

One of the poorest countries in all the world,

is where the truth became slowly unfurled.

Where chocolate colored people dwell,

but they feel like they're in hell.

Where Lovely has no mommy

and Woodensky has no daddy.

Where charcoal is a business

and people are always sleepless.

A place where rich doesn't exist,

it's just all in the fine-print.

A place where there is no such thing as "dirty"

and bare-feet are just so much more sturdy.

Where houses are made of sticks and mud

but there's just as much, if not more love.

Where being an orphan is all too common,

yet the kids still sing "amen".

Where a handful of beans is a meal shared by a family of six just for a day,

and every relative eventually dies of AIDs.

A place that has a river of trash

and nobody has any cash.

Where a child dies in Haiti,

we're looking at a new iPhone we don't need and saying, "maybe".

If I could change one thing,

I'd make America see the truth.

We have so much,

why not use it to give someone else lunch?