There's millions of little heart beats that no one can hear across this land
No one to care for them, guide them, or take their hand
No one to cuddle them at night, while terrified on the streets
No one to mop up their tears, while they silently weep
No one to take care of them when they're hurt or ill
Dying of curable diseases, in the western world would no longer kill
Hungry and frightened with nowhere to go
How they manage, I don't think we can really know
No clean water, no food or shoes on their feet
Searching for scraps, anything they can find, they have brothers and sisters to feed.
No toys to play with, no laughter or fun
Just basic survival everyday in the rain or sun
Billions and billions of western aid is sent
Yet the number of children dying seems irrelevant
How is it possible in this day and age
The thought of child poverty fills me with such rage
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