i entered this poem into a contest and now its gonna be published
Hidden Haunt
By Levi LaFonte
Society, in which we partake, is nothing more than a fake.
On the surface it’s all nice, but underneath there’s no rice
to feed the kids who others buy, we all know it --don’t deny
that there is a hidden haunt and all we can think of is what we want?
Sure I’d like a million dollars, but I’d prefer to see millions holler.
Better yet to see them act, to help change that there’s a fact
that there’s no meat, for the boy with no feet,
blown off by a bomb, like the one that killed his mom
‘cause his family went against the say, of one of many corrupt governments today,
who steal their people’s food away, and use it to buy guns for another day --
to keep the people under oppression, a constant supply of depression.
And all we can think of is what we want, maybe some shoes from a sweat shop
that a six-year-old child made, only to be under paid.
When the people become defiant, the government’s soldiers will keep them quiet.
When you’re done reading this poem, you may decide against its tone,
Forget about the hidden haunt, and go back to thinking of what you want.