The world is a home to us,\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Still we’re homeless.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My son searches for comfort by hugging my body,\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
While I lie helplessly on those dusty pavements of road,\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I manage to steal those crumps of bread for him,\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Holding those tears inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I just wish my obligations of poverty,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Don’t kill my integrity.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With open hands and containers,\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stand midst those crowds.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Managing to collect dust in both,\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I beg to relieve my hunger,\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And seek some mercy.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Walking those posh areas I realized,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Their face reflects the same on those car mirrors as that of mine, they’re no different than me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Just covered up with privileges and luck!\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Just my poverty can’t be given a facade,\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The dullness and failure against this fate screams through me and I feel weak!\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ragpicker is what they named me<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But all I could collect from the society were the Shattered pieces of Humanity.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Caucasiod, Mongoloid, Rich or poor These hands conjoint’<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We are one, we are alike’<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Only the words and pictures on the political party’s logo were a society’s pseudo smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They tell us we’re no different,\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But each day treat me nothing like a human.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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