Somewhere past the basement rock and sandstone hills
In the hot grains of rocks were blood spills
A dark-skinned boy is slowly dying
He will not give in without trying
But his please of help go un-heard
The others do know what has occurred
But they refuse to act, as apathetic it may be
The volume of a thousand entreaties
Sill does not send enough force to dismantle
They disregard and their mind changes the channel
As the boy’s life in the wasteland slowly ends
The others give no amends
I will be glad to return the favor.

-Peace
Kolbie f- Thanks for your kind words

Sincere-Advisor-Sorry for the mistake, I am sort of careless like that. Also, I do know what is going on in Darfur. When I was referring to ‘others’ I meant foreign countries, specifically, the U.S. Thank you