Shortage

No food, water or food,
This is a Shortage.
Most dead from starvation,
Some from disorganised pyjamas.

Not folded, creased or pizza.
No house to cook the air.
Right about now some food would be nice,
'I can't' He said, i ate all the rice.

poem by Lawrie Stuart Ronton
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!