A Tribute for the Less Fortunate
Roaming the streets with wild fires around,
Poor little creatures can be obviously found.
The future’s children are trapped on a street
With nothing from life but a harsh kiss.
They are alone inside, trained to be rough,
For mother and father don’t have enough.
The lord of crime teases them
So that in peace, their pitiful bellies shall rest.
Begging for alms has always been glued.
Just for a few coins, they’re willing to be shrewd.
Anything within the reach of their hands,
Against all odds, they’re bound to take.
Chemical liquids saunter their lungs,
A way to escape reality, and for a moment,
taste some fantasies.
Ragged and untidy clothes cover their skinny bodies,
Truly deprived of life’s simple treasures.
Behind the shattering truth,
For them, that cruel place is home which soothes,
A sanctuary filled with cold souls,
And if weak they are, their souls will be doomed into a freeze,
And shall meet the final crack.
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