A run down building sits outside the city
A place that refuses to offer any pity
Where the unwanted people are forced to dwell
Huddled together are the lost who fell
The forgotten whose lives are shattered
Unknown faces that no longer matter
They understand for them it's too late
A terrible life is to be their fate
Robbed of their pride because they're poor
Not able to ever hope for more
Poverty a terrorist that will not subside
Until at last all the poor have died.

--Judy Eichstedt