For What Choice They Had?
For, what choice they had?
Water droplets making the muddy earth appear red,
Droplets sound like a monster thumping its foot,
Everything seemed eerie, prosaic.
Raw, half stale bread cooked on the stove,
“No more bread”, a shrill female voice retorted.
Her drooped face,
Her dried skin,
Her parched-pale lips,
Her rough tresses,
Her shrunken eyeballs devoid of hope.
She kept a piece of bread for the beggar,
For who could be richer than her?
She was rich;
Yet, she was poor.
“Bring my pants”, a heavy-coarse masculine voice yelled,
She engulfed the abuse
Else, what choice she had?
She had no choice.
Draped in a muddy-patched pant he left,
For, what choice he had?
He had no choice.