The World We Pretend to Fix

Foreword

This is the longest poem I’ve written until today, and I know I’ll get one major criticism: not talking about the Israel-Gaza war. I did this on purpose. One of the biggest problems today is that people care more about this single war than worse stuff, like in Sudan. Did you know? In just the last 2 years, over 150,000 people died in Sudan’s war—way more than the 120,000 who’ve died in all the fighting between Israel and Palestine since 1948.

Same with starving children in Yemen—UNICEF says 2.2 million children are malnourished. That’s more than all the children in Gaza (where there’s about 989,000 children)! Gaza is like the “celebrity” of wars, even though other places have it worse. (And no, this doesn’t apply to Ukraine—their numbers are as bad as the attention they get.)

People don’t really care about helping or facts. They just want to look like they care. The adult world is messed up, through and through.

Poem: The World We Pretend to Fix [narrative protest]

The world is full of broken things that grown-ups say they’ll mend,
but every day I see the same, the hurt that never ends.
They post black squares and rainbow flags to show how much they care,
but when real help is needed most, somehow they’re never there.

In Yemen, children starve today—thirty-six percent don’t eat,
while rich men burn their carbon up in just ten days, complete.
The charities ask for our coins to fix what can’t be fixed,
but poverty keeps growing while the bandaids get more mixed.

The war in Ukraine rages on; the summer will be worse,
with Putin sending boys to die, reversing freedom’s course.
We share the posts and say we care, we put flags in our names,
but people die while we pretend we’re playing helpful games.

McDonald’s gave us paper straws that couldn’t be recycled,
while Coca-Cola called their drinks “life” though they’re barely edible.
Companies paint themselves as green with labels fake and bright,
but carbon rises every day—we’re losing the climate fight.

In Somalia, the rains won’t come; the drought will last all year,
while Europe builds its walls up high to keep out those in fear.
Migration paths shift left and right as people run from pain,
but borders close and fences rise, making hope seem vain.

The activists march in the streets demanding things to change,
but companies just smile and nod, keeping profits in their range.
Insurance pays for oil projects that burn our future down,
while protesters get arrested when they make too much sound.

On Instagram, they share the links of causes for the day,
but clicktivism can’t save the world—it’s just an easy way
to feel like you’re helping out without leaving your warm bed,
while real change needs sacrifice, not likes and hearts instead.

The politicians make their speeches, promising what’s new,
but Yemen’s children still don’t eat, and Sudan is breaking too.
They gather for their meetings while the hungry millions wait,
as climate wars and greed ensure help comes decades late.

At school, they teach us to recycle while the planet burns,
and tell us to be grateful while the world still never learns
that token gestures aren’t enough when suffering runs deep,
that posting is not helping when real people need to sleep.

The charity workers get their pay while poverty stays strong.
They fix the symptoms, not the cause, and this has been too long—
like putting band-aids on a heart that’s broken through and through,
while those who profit from the pain smile and say, “We help you too.”

The news shows floods and fires burning, droughts that last for years,
but ads for cars and cruises still assault our eyes and ears.
We know the truth but act like lies; we see but choose to be blind,
because the real solutions mean we’d have to change our minds.

The rich keep getting richer while the poor get pushed aside,
and everyone keeps playing games with suffering as their guide.
We tweet about equality but never share our wealth;
we claim to fight for nature, yet ignore its dying health.

I see the world for what it is, not what they say it could be—
a place where caring is performed, but help comes rarely free,
where every crisis is a chance to show how good you are,
but real change stays forever just a distant, dying star.

The adults failed to fix this mess they’ve left for children like me,
but maybe if we see it clear, we’ll learn what help should be:
not posting or pretending or buying things that seem green,
but actually changing how we live, not just how we’re seen.

So when I grow up, I will try to be the change that’s real—
not just talking about the pain but working to help heal,
because this broken world needs more than likes and shares and trends;
it needs people who really care, not just people who pretend.

The children still go hungry, and the wars still rage today.
The climate keeps on changing in a dark and dangerous way.
But maybe if we stop pretending help is just a game,
we might actually fix some things instead of just the blame.

Until that day, I’ll speak the truth about this cruel world’s ways—
where suffering becomes content for our social media days,
where caring is performing, and helping is for show,
while real people really hurt, but most don’t want to know.