The world, with its bounty and plight,
Too much for some, too little, not right.
For the boy who lost his eye, a sorrowful sight,
While the board pays for ammo, their wallets alight.
Too little for the girl with blistered feet,
Walking miles for water, a desperate beat,
Yet too much for the company, in their seat,
Using gallons while she faces defeat.
The young widow of war, left alone to mourn,
Too little from a world where pain is born,
Yet too much for the tank, its metal torn,
In the chaos of battle, futures shorn.
Too much and too little, a constant strife,
Wearing peace thin, costing precious life.
Let's add a little to those in need's pleas,
For what the world craves is tranquility's ease.
