Thousand screams of hungry slaves in the slums

The dreaded city of burnt hope.

Starving savages sit by the streets

Arms raised high 

They are not just begging for coins brother.

They are begging for peace.

Their faces scarred by dried up tears

"If this isn't hell then what is?"

They ask.

Such tragedy as Aeschylus himself wrote in the pages of the world

Will such horrors ever end?

Their skin folds and wrinkles in the baked African sun

Their eyes meshed with dark and red circles that dance around them

Their hope in the Government have been far lost 

as they only hope for daily bread

and water they can sip on

to quench their eternal thirst.

My brothers and Sisters?

only Christ can do that.

Reviews

[Kasey Miriam]

Wonderful job! You have a continum of wonderful writting. the style you use is lovely

[A. Amos]

Thought provoking and honest piece of write and ending you nailed my friend!