Beneath the moon’s pale glow,
Empty plates whisper tales,
Of dreams forsaken, hopes that fail.
Shadows stretch, linger slow.

In fields where golden grains sway,
Silent cries echo through the breeze,
A promise of plenty, but none to seize,
Hunger’s grip tightens each day.

Children with eyes wide and hollow,
Seek solace in the night’s embrace,
Yet find only the cold, empty space,
Where tomorrow’s bread should follow.

O world, hear the silent plea,
Break the chains of this cruel plight,
Let kindness reign, make wrongs right,
And set the weary spirit free.