I was cleaning under my bed here at my parent’s house and found a tub of some of my old writings from middle school. This is a poem I wrote in 7th grade. I can’t believe I kept it! Before you critique – just remember – I was 11 or so when I wrote it!
A Scared, Little Child
A scared, little child lies on a rough, rugged floor.
He lies on dirt – he has nothing more.
He tries very hard to fall fast asleep.
But his stomach hurts – he has nothing to eat.
Born in the world of the sick and the poor,
No house to live in – his clothes all torn.
A rope he ties around his belly so tight,
When it cuts into his skin – he knows its just right.
That makes him feel full – though it hurts and he weeps,
But his cries have now softened – he’s fallen fast asleep.
When he awakes he wonders – no one heard his cries?
We aren’t them – so we simply close our eyes.
It’s not our problem – and it feels too big,
But because of us – he may not live.
Thousands of children are dying day after day,
They are dying from things we could easily save.
But we’ve got things to do – we just don’t have the time.
And minute after minute – they go hungry and they die.
So when we open our fridge in the middle of the night,
Think of the boy with the rope tied around tight.
He’s not asking for very much – just the chance to live.
We are asking you to share – simply – just to give.