Born into the village of death,
Sent out of their father’s home in tears,
To a place where no one cares,
A far land unknown to them
To always romance sadness,
They cry in vain all the time,
As their imaginations are blurs, for,
Life is getting really difficult all the while.
Generally seems to lack,
Substantial person to watch their back,
To them life taste like a beautiful sorrow,
Laughter is a bitter-sweet medicine,
Several days without a shower,
Since they were deprived of clean water,
Clothed with millions of diseases,
Their foul smell can make Heaven vomit.
In rags they always dress,
Everyone sees them so disgusting,
Their eyes speaks messages of pains,
But everyone finds their story’s uninteresting,
Living a life under cruel sentence,
Hopeless children without the fear of danger,
Everywhere they go are seen as strangers.
Lacking normal and moral upbringing,
Moving around with their empty bowl begging.
Not counted as people they’re often omitted,
They’re left with the cry of hungry stomach,
Many despised on them, as if from a lesser God,
In everything they have no access,
No father’s aid, no mother’s tender care,
So the streets seem their only friend.
