They are not with us
Hence, we are one and the same
Living on the same ground
Breathing the same air
The sons and daugthers of poverty
Dancing with the harsh tides of reality
Swiming for dear life
In an endless pit of greed
Drowning on a quicksand of debt
Holding on the knives of the selfish
Being played by Midas hands
Puppets of false kings and emperors
We are vouyers of pain
Peeping toms of agony
We hear and we feel
We feel but we do nothing
We offer symphathy
Living their lives through emphathy
But the bitter truth we try to conceal
We are beings of apathy
Looking like were in pain
Up on the stage where all eyes can see
Narcissuses who seek a minute of fame
Playing a charades of sensitivity
What can merely looking do?