Don't be heartless: Read this Poem and feel what these children feel.

MARRIAGES’ BROKEN MIRROR

They are the unkempt children

Wandering around the town,

They are those underage

You see around your town,

They are those flocks of children

Hawking in the market square,

They are beautiful,

But no one dear,

They are the able beggars

You see here and there,

They are sweet fruits

Denied to be ripened,

They are diamond

But not polished.

They are these children

Beneath the sky

Whose tender skins

Are patted by flies,

Whose lovely eyes

Cannot cease to cry,

Whose sweet lips

Eat nothing but germs,

Whose bodies lay not

On bed nor on mat

But on an elongated leaf

From a banana tree.

They are those children

Who sleep in twos or threes;

Not in a cottage nor in a hut,

But under the shade

Made by a government bridge.

They are not from sky,

Not aliens on earth,

They have their freedom,

It has been enslaved,

They have their homes,

They are been denied.

They have their two eyes

They have both departed.

They have their family

It has been broken;

Spermatozoa in north

And ovum in south.

They turn gentle men

On the high way

And those sick girls

Whose doctors live in brothels.

They are the images

From broken marriages’ mirror.

(C) HYBRID

 

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