Our Generation

These days,
we obscure the truth.
A number of miles away,
people are calling,
and we aren't answering.

The sun from the east,
brings a new day for us.
A day for hope,
a day filled with hapiness and joy.

The forgotten,
are also delivered a day,
A day of sorrow and grief.
A day of misery.
What do they have?
How do they survive the struggle we ignore?

It never fails.
We've convinced ourselves
of a perfect world.
To blind our mind from the agony
that is their common plague.

How much longer
must this continue?
Somewhere, a man is beside himself,
weeping.
Wiping his eyes with the
dirty rags that are his most
valuable possessions.

We find ourselves too busy,
with our simple ways,
our simple lives.
Pre-occupied.

How do we justify?
What do we tell the little boy,
wasting away?
How far can "sorry" go?

Are we that naive?
Can we expect them to understand?
Will it end?