His carpet is stone, dirt

And trash that no one wants

Decorated by urine and faeces

Which is often his own

Feet blistered with red blue sores

Toenails crafted with serrated stones

And filled with soot

Because he walks barefoot

The cleanest liquid that cleans them

Is the blood of his wounded soul

Which exudes out at night when he is alone

Because earlier that day he saw kids

Walking with their back packs

While he held his trash bag

And he ran back

To the tenous home

With walls torn

And a broken core


He thinks about all the food they could spare

And all the money they could share

And ponders on why they have so much

And why he was born a human mutt


The little lad’s mind fails to comprehend

The injustice which does not end


So he turns to screams of lamentations

And churns his greasy hair

Because to him life is not fair


Evolving red thoughts

And a greying heart

While his fragile soul

Shatters and grows cold


And his eyes curse us


We have been told                                                 

That kids have hearts of gold

And we know that they should spend their lives care free

We! You and me!

We see

Kids sharing this fate everywhere in our own city

and while we take pity

we do not heal their wounds

we walk away guilty