Title: Wasted money
by Harriet from Buckinghamshire | in writing, poetry
Money means nothing to the poor
To those who don't have it
Yet to those who shower in it
Sleep in it
Fight for it
Die for it
To those who need no more
It means everything
In a world where those without it die
And those with it kill
Where the poor have no food
And the rich waste epic proportions
The only reason they cannot receive it
Is because they cannot return it
And who, pray tell, will be affected?
If we gave them a little free food
A little compassion
Some help
Not even money
Just a little sustainability
Because money is not everything
One cannot buy life
One cannot pay away the guilt of murder
The guilt of knowing
A little wasted rice is another wasted life
My thoughts on this topic were spurred in a debate in geography about LEDCs
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