Poor said:
When winter comes
Death comes
Cold house
No electricity
No fuel
No warm clothes
No food
No chance to work
On the street
Streets filled with slush, mud
Where should we work?
When winter comes
Sickness comes
No kind doctor
No free clinics
No good medicine
In the pharmacy
An expired drug
Waiting for me
Where should we recover?

By Freshta

Photo: Paula Bronstein/Getty Images