Why?
If we have food,
And water,
And money,
And shelter.
And there’s electricity,
And education,
And transportation,
And greenery.
Then WHY?!
Just...
           Why?
Are
       EIGHT-HUNDRED THIRTY-SIX MILLION
                                                                          in extreme poverty,
And
       ONE-FOURTH
                                 children too short,
Or one-fifth living under
                                      A DOLLAR, TWENTY FIVE?!
Why,
Do things like third class,
And second class,
And poor countries
exist?
           Why?

I once met a girl.
She was my age,
Young and Pretty
But
Too poor to pay for lunch,
Too poor to pay for education,
Too
       POOR
                   for a good life.
She asked me Why?
Why?!
Did she have to live like that?
Why?!
Did she have to work
Just to earn
                      MONEY?!
Why?
Couldn’t she live like…
                                       me?

He was on the streets.
A natural charm.
As faithful as a dog,
He loved
                The Lord.
No matter what,
He loved
               God.
And he asked me WHY?!
Why?
Had Lord given him that?
This life he had,
This life he lived.
Why?
Did people walk past,
With faces of disgust?
“ I am human, too”,
He said
“ I am just like them.”
“I am just like…
                            You”

They were a family.
The streets, they slept on.
The streets, they ate on.
The streets, they
                            LIVED on.
A single mother,
Who tried her
                       BEST,
To raise her three children.
Two girls and a boy.

They asked me
                         WHY?
Why?
Had their home been taken?
Why?
Were they so hungry?
Unlike… 
                me?
     Why?

These people,
They were
                  GREAT people.
Facing poverty,
The perfect storm.
They
         loved,
More than any I’ve met,
BETTER
               than any I’ve met,
STRONGER
                    than any I’ve met.

I told the poor girl,
What I said to the man,
and the family.
I said, “Because people,
Men of this life,
Could not care less,
About things like this,
Situations like…
                            yours,
But do not worry,
For there
                ARE
And there
                 will be,
Few who are
                      different,
Few who would
                          take action,
Few who… would
                             ONE DAY help you.”

As much dreaded,
To say something
                              like that,
Something so selfish.
We have to admit,
That…
That it
           IS
               true.
That we could only…
Smirk
          at people like them,
Those who have
                            nothing,
Those who are
                         ignored,
Those who
                   seek attention.
We have to
                   realise,
That we could only,
Stare at our cellphones
And text a message
Or dial a number
And call a person.
It
   IS
       true.
We
       Have
                to notice,
And when we do,
we will ask ourselves,

Why?

Cindy,
I enjoyed your poem--your use of questions to bring out the ideas you wanted to discuss what effective. 

I’d like you to continue working on using more figurative language in your poem.  Your poem has a lot of detail, but you need some figurative language so the readers can picture what you are saying.  Also, you are doing a lot of experimenting with white space, but it is almost too much--your poem is visually chaotic in places.  Try to find a balance between using regular stanzas and using white space for those significant ideas/words/lines that you want to emphasize.

4th Draft
If we have food,
And water,
And money,
And shelter.
And there’s electricity,
And education,
And transportation,
And greenery.
So to politics,
And governance,
And clothing,
And air.
Then
         WHY?!
Just...
           Why?
Are
       EIGHT-HUNDRED THIRTY-SIX MILLION
                                                                          in extreme poverty,
And
       ONE-SEVENTH
                                children too short,
Or one-fifth living under
                                      A DOLLAR, TWENTY FIVE?!
       Why,
Do things like 
                       THIRD CLASS,
And
       SECOND CLASS,
And
       POOR COUNTRIES
                                       exist?
           Why?

I once met a girl.
She was
               my age,
Young and Pretty
But.
Too poor to pay for lunch,
Too poor to pay for education,
Too
       POOR
                   for a good life.
She asked me Why?
Why?!
Did she have to live like that?
Why?!
Did she have to work
Just to earn
                      MONEY?!
Why?
Couldn’t she live like…
                                     me?

He was on the streets.
A
    natural
               charm.
As faithful as a dog
He loved
                the Lord,
No matter what,
He loved
               God.
And he asked me WHY?!
Why?
Had Lord given him that?
This
        life
              he had,
This life he
                    lived.
Why?
Did people walk past,
With faces of disgust?
“ I am human, too”,
He said
“ I am just like
                        them.”
“I am just like…
                            You”

They were a family.
The streets, they
                              slept
                                   on.
The streets, they
                            Ate
                                  on.
The streets, they
                            LIVED
                                        on.
A single mother,
Who tried her
                       BEST,
To
     raise
             her three children.
Two girls and a boy.

They asked me
                             WHY?
Why?
Had their home been taken?
Why?
Were they so hungry?Was their mother tired…
Unlike… 
                me?my mother?
     Why?

These people,
They were
                  GREAT
                               Pppeople.
Facing poverty,
The perfect storm.
They
         loved,
More than any I’ve met,
BETTER
               than any I’ve met,
STRONGER
                    than any I’ve met.

I told the poor girl,
What I said to the man,
AND
         the family.
I said, “Because
                           people,
Men
       of this life,
Humans
             of this time,
Mortals
            of this place
Could not care
                         less,
About things like
                            this,
Situations like…
                           yours,
But
       DO NOT
                     worry,
For there
                ARE
And there
                 will be,
Few who are
                      different,
Few who would
                          take action,
Few who… would
                             ONE DAY
                                              help you.”

As much dreaded,
To say something
                                like that.
WeYou
       have
               to admit,
That…
That it
           IS
               true.
That we could
                       only…
Smirk
          at people like them,
Those who have
                            nothing,
Those who arewere
                            ignored,
Those who
                   seeked attention.
WeYou have to
                    realise,
That we could
                        only,
Stare at our cellphones
And text a message
Or dial a number
And call a person.
It
   IS
       true.
WeYou
       Have
                to notice,
And when weyou do,
weYou will ask ourselvesyourself,

Why?

3rd Draft
If we have food,
And water,
And money,
And shelter.
And there’s electricity,
And education,
And transportation,
And greenery.
So to politics,
And governance,
And clothing,
And air.
Then
         WHY?!WHY,
Just...
           Why?why
Are
       EIGHT-HUNDRED THIRTY-SIX MILLIONEIGHT-HUNDRED, THIRTY-SIX MILLION
                                                                       in extreme poverty,
And
       ONE-SEVENTH
                                one-seventh children too short,
Or one-fifth living under
                                       A DOLLAR, TWENTY FIVE?!
       Why,Why,
Do things like 
                       THIRD CLASS,third class
And
       SECOND CLASS,second class
And
       POOR COUNTRIESpoor countries
                                       exist?
           Why?

I once met a girl.
She was
               my age.
Too poor to pay for lunch,
Too poor to pay for education,
Too
       POOR
                   for a good life.
She asked me Why?
Why?!
Did she have to live like that?
Why?!
Did she have to work
Just to earn
                      MONEY?!
Why?!
Couldn’t she live like…
                                     … me?

He was on the streets.
A
    natural
               charm.
He loved
                the Lord,
No matter what what,
He loved
               God.
And he asked me WHY?!
Why?
Had Lord given him that?
This
        life
              he had,
This  life he
                    lived.
Why?
Did people walk past,
With faces of disgust?
“ I am human, too”,
He said
“ I am just like
                        them.”
“I am just like…
                            Yyou”

They were a family.
The streets, they
                              slept
                                   on.
The streets, they
                            Aate
                                  on.
The streets, they
                            LIVED
                                       lived on.
A single mother,
Who tried her
                       BESTbest,
To
     raise
             her three children.
Two girls and a boy.

They asked me
                             WHY?
Why?
Had their home been taken?
Why?
Was their mother tired…
Unlike… 
                my mother?
     Why?

These people,
They were
                  GREAT
                              great people.
They
         loved,
More than any I’ve met,
BETTER
              Better than any I’ve met,
STRONGER
                   Stronger than any I’ve met.

I told the poor girl,
What I said to the man,
AND
        And the family.
I said, “Because
                           people,
Men
       of this life,
Humans
             of this time,
Mortals
            of this place
Could not care
                         less,
About things like
                            this,
Situations like…
                           yours,
But
       DO NOT
                do not     worry,
For there
                AREare
And there
                 will be,
Few who are
                      different,
Few who would
                          take action,
Few who… would
                             ONE DAY
                                              help you.”

As much dreaded,
To say something
                                like that.
You
       have
               to admit,
That…
That it
           IS
               true.
That we could
                       only…
Smirk
          at people like them,
Those who have
                            d nothing,
Those who were
                            ignored,
Those who
                   seeked attention.
You have to
                    realise,
That we could
                        only,
Stare at our cellphones
And text a message
Or dial a number
And call a person.
It
   IS
       true.
You
       Hhave
                to notice,
And when you do,
You will ask yourself,

Why?

2nd Draft
If we have food,
And water,
And money,
And shelter.

And there’s electricity,
And education,
And transportation,
And greenery.

So to politics,
And governance,
And clothing,
And air

Then WHY,
Just why
Are EIGHT-HUNDRED, THIRTY-SIX MILLION in extreme poverty,
And one-seventh children too short,
Or one-fifth living under A DOLLAR, TWENTY FIVE?!

Why,
Do things like third class
And second class
And poor countries exist?
Why?

I once met a girl.
She was my age.
Too poor to pay for lunch,
Too poor to pay for education,
Too POOR for a good life.

She asked me Why?
Why?!
Did she have to live like that?
Why?
Did she have to work
Just to earn MONEY?!
Why?!
Couldn’t she live like… me

He was on the streets.
A natural charm.
He loved the Lord,
No matter what,
He loved God.

And he asked me WHY?!
Why?
Had Lord given him that?
This life he had,
This life he lived.
Why?
Did people walk past,
With faces of disgust?
“ I am human, too”,
He said
“ I am just like them.”
“I am just like you”

They were a family.
The streets, they slept on.
The streets, they ate on.
The streets, they lived on.
A single mother,
Who tried her best,
To raise her three children.
Two girls and a boy.

They asked me WHY?
Why?
Had their home been taken?
Why?
Was their mother tired…
Unlike… my mother?
Why?

These people,
They were great people.
They loved,
More than any I’ve met,
Better than any I’ve met,
Stronger than any I’ve met.

I told the poor girl,
What I said to the man,
And the family.
I said, “Because people,
Men of this life,
Humans of this time,
Mortals of this place
Could not care less,
About things like this,
Situations like yours,
But do not worry,
For there are
And there will be,
Few who are different,
Few who would take action,
Few who… would ONE DAY help you.”

As much dreaded,
To say something like that.
You have to admit,
That…
That it IS true.
That we could only…
Smirk at people like them,
Those who had nothing,
Those who were ignored,
Those who seeked attention.
You have to realise,
That we could only,
Stare at our cellphones
And text a message
Or dial a number
And call a person.
It IS true.
You have to notice,
And when you do,
You will ask yourself,
Why?

1st Draft
If we have food,
And water,
And money,
And shelter.

And there’s electricity,
And education,
And transportation,
And greenery.

So to politics,
And governance,
And clothing,
And air

Then WHY,
Just why
Are EIGHT-HUNDRED, THIRTY-SIX MILLION in extreme poverty,
And one-seventh children too short,
Or one-fifth living under A DOLLAR, TWENTY FIVE?!

Why,
Do things like third class
And second class
And poor countries exist?
Why?

I once met a girl.
She was my age.
Too poor to pay for lunch,
Too poor to pay for education,
Too POOR for a good life.

She asked me Why?
Why?!
Did she have to live like that?
Why?
Did she have to work
Just to earn MONEY?!
Why?!
Couldn’t she live like… me

He was on the streets.
A natural charm.
He loved the Lord,
No matter what,
He loved God.

And he asked me WHY?!
Why?
Had Lord given him that?
This life he had,
This life he lived.
Why?
Did people walk past,
With faces of disgust?
“ I am human, too”,
He said
“ I am just like them.”
“I am just like you”

They were a family.
The streets, they slept on.
The streets, they ate on.
The streets, they lived on.
A single mother,
Who tried her best,
To raise her three children.
Two girls and a boy.

They asked me WHY?
Why?
Had their home been taken?
Why?
Was their mother tired…
Unlike… my mother?
Why?

These people,
They were great people.
They loved,
More than any I’ve met,
Better than any I’ve met,
Stronger than any I’ve met.

I told the poor girl,
What I said to the man,
And the family.
I said, “Because people,
Men of this life,
Humans of this time,
Mortals of this place
Could not care less,
About things like this,
Situations like yours,
But do not worry,
For there are
And there will be,
Few who are different,
Few who would take action,
Few who… would ONE DAY help you.”

As much dreaded,
To say something like that.
You have to admit,
That…
That it IS true.
That we could only…
Smirk at people like them,
Those who had nothing,
Those who were ignored,
Those who seeked attention.