As the snow flies,

A teenage girl lies on the street,

An ice-cold frost biting at her feet,

The odd penny is tossed her way, here and there,

But there’s no one left, no one cares,

Alone… Hungry… Bitter… Cold,

But we do not notice,

We have not been told.

In a sweatshop there works an eight-year-old child,

Thin as a rake, hunger driving him wild,

Working ten-hour days with nothing to eat,

No water to drink, no bread, no meat,

Neglected… Starved… wishing of care that never has been,

But we do not realise,

We have not seen.

In a school, in a playground, a girl sprawls on the ground,

As some others throw punches and insults around,

Her body is bruised, and so is her mind,

There’s no one who cares,

Who’s sympathetic and kind,

Tortured… alone… driven half insane,

But we do not understand,

It has not been explained.

Though we may be clever, we’re totally blind,

To the things that have happened to innocent minds,

They are tortured, starved, afraid, alone,

But they don’t complain, cry, moan,

They are quiet about the troubles they contain,

They bottle up all their feelings; hide all their pain,

It’s not your fault, placing the blame is not fair,

But we need to notice, we have to care.