Empty stomachs speak languages only the mind can hear
starving children make sad melodies
while mothers and fathers stomachs sleep empty  
living life while facing internal tragedy
they eat and breath poverty
while their countries exploit those working
victims of a broken nation
beggars make more income than those working
poverty is their new identity
starvation is their reality

Christmas is the time for heartbreaking Trócaire ads,
The time when decorations are put up by Dads.
Children are told stories of old.
Broken souls sit in the cold.
Big families arrange for big Christmas meals.
Dust cover young, chapped heels.
Santa and his reindeer fly across the sky.
When yet another hot season slowly passes by.

Christmas is a time when we all exchange gifts.
As just another angel lifts.
Choral chants assemble at front doors with sheets.
While the homeless continue to wander the streets.
The incandescence of lights fill our black,
When the darkest world still remains behind our back.
We receive the joys and the magic.
They only feel the tears and damage.

We have two worlds:
The First and the Third.

We live in the one with a Christmas..
But they live in the world that is still unheard.