Poverty

A self-absorbed child furiously thumps
The keys of his computer keyboard
Playing a mindless game
Where everyone kills everyone in his way.

Across the other side of the globe,
An emaciated young and ailing toddler
Digs into the slimy mud
Looking for creepy-crawlies to eat for the day

That same self-absorbed youngster
Now shoves aside the plateful of steamy rice lavished with thick gravy
Lovingly cooked by his mother
And opts instead to chomp on a packet of crisp

The withered toddler
Drools as he daydreams once again
About slowly chewing a spoonful of plain,soft,fragrant rice
His bloated stomach rumbles at the thought

Hours later,the spoilt youngster screams and shouts in protest
As passers-by look at the brat who did not get what he wanted

The sickly toddler,foaming at the mouth
Shuts his eyes for the last time
Finally free from the burden that is his life

Not one person looks up,nor sheds a tear,
For the boy is just another victim
Of poverty and famine in his country
And his death means nothing
For there have been many like him
And more to come.

Non-rhyming poem by Farah