Piercing screams that go unheard

Shattered dreams and empty words

All these things and so much more

Are what make life a tragic chore

They cry, and sob, and weep, and mourn

And pray for hope to be re-born

It's a struggle for survival, and justice, and peace

Or at the very least, for the pain to cease

"But it's their choice," as some may say,

"It's not our fault they live this way."

As society crumbles, cracks and decays

As they break their backs throughout the day

Will they ever be free?

Not one truly knows

But their wills extend as far as the wind blows