I roam aimlessly in the scorching sun
Winter rain and snows,
Tattered clothes, dirty hands,
A pair of soles for shoes.
Extending my little palm to you,
Eyes pleading helplessness,
I ask for alms, hungry and hopeless.
I know not where I was born,
My name or age, or where I belong;
In the concrete jungles of your wealth
Alone I wander under the open skies,
To find help in comforting lies.
Your eyes avoid me like I am invisible,
Some stare with suspicion, and others hate,
Some sympathise with people living this way.
A penny for you, precious treasure for me
Leftover waste on your plates
A hearty meal I seek for me and my mates.
If I ever met your God,
To whom I see you pray to every day
With Food and riches, clothes of all kinds,
While from me you walk away,
Cringing your nose, cursing in your mind,
I will surely ask Him why he takes it all,
Gives me not even a share of the goodies, small.
And if He actually made any of it this way
The world and you who runs it anyway.
~ Suranya
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