The Cardbord Indian

I dreamt of a life where poverty was everywhere

The world and thousands of people were dying everyday

There was war after war

I even dreamt of the government corrupt

Indian children and women dying
From malnutrition and disease

They were living in cardboard houses

The Indian children committing suicide
before they turned of age

One of three dying this tragic way

And I had another dream about skies so black
that not one cloud could be seen
on what was once a blue horizon

Then I awoke to reality and was secure

In my pine needle bed

In my house made of cardboard

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...