Why give a child homework with nowhere to sleep at night?
Why teach dreams on cardboard beds under flickering streetlight?
Why measure grades while hunger sharpens its knife?
Why call it failure when survival steals their time?
Why ask the homeless for hope, then lock every door tight?

Why run the same race when the starts were never the same?
Why call it merit while rigging the rules of the game?
Why praise the few who escape, then blame the rest who remain?
Why tax the poor for patience while wealth dodges the pain?
Why teach work harder in a system allergic to change?

Why build more prisons but close every school?
Why reward corruption and punish the rule?
Why flood the streets with sirens, not food?
Why call it crime when desperation is the fuel?
Why police the poor harder than the powerful few?

Why demand silence from people unheard?
Why patch broken roads, but ignore broken nerves?
Why call it amenities when dignity’s deferred?
Why fund comfort for some, while others live blurred?
Why ask for patience from lives constantly hurt?

These aren’t questions born of confusion or doubt.
They are truths we swallow, then spit back out.
We call it normal, so the bruises can hide.
We call it policy, so no one is tried.
But every unanswered why is a wound we decide.