If only I could do so much more than sitting here writing,

Across the world, both near and far people are fighting,

Fighting for their lives, fighting for their rights

Fighting the elements to have somewhere to sleep tonight

Across the print and tv media the only thing you see

Are decimated wastelands and people trying to flee

From war torn self destruction and political tyranny

Or moisture barren landscapes and abject poverty

But here in the first world as we live in our bubbles

We have problems of our own in our daily struggles

Hidden away out of sight, not wanting further trouble

Eating away in our minds, always in a tussle

Of how to deal with issues, trying to succeed

Trying to help others while coping with our needs

There's a complex web of guilt often sown with a tiny seed

Fed by constant regurgitated news feeds

But just because we live in a first world nation

Doesn't mean that life is always a celebration

There's always a pox requiring inoculation

And social injustices demanding eradication

Struggling parents trying the keep a roof above their heads

Children in hand me downs keeping warm in their beds

Not understanding why an envelope is a thing of dread

Especially if the typeface is bold and blood chilling red

There's an ageing population, often single and alone

The postman the only visitor to see them in their home

Whilst previous dependant children often never phone

Two bars on the fire, another night in on their own

Each and every time that the worlds makes another turn

There are so many lessons from which we fail to learn

The issues are getting bigger and that is a concern

It'll reach a critical mass from which there's no return