It’s a poem expressing pathos of CHILD LABOUR.

Some little hearts,

few brave injuries

are they the future of our country?

energy is the fuel of today’s future

running in muscles of young ones

however,are we also considering little ones

I saw them rubbing their hands in mud,

holding greasy pots and pans

thinking it’s fun..

Crying on the pavements as

no one to mother them.

Laughing with their spoiled body

in the garbage stop

(cool place to hangout!)

Coming close to the dreamy side for their reality,

while one palm opened ahead.

Just showing their life,common to them,

but low and different to us.

Astonished with our reactions,

confused with what did they do wrong?

Too small and immature,

didn’t realise ,their simple life had fouled our environment

when they sung the mercy song.

moreover, crying is not the solution

neither shutting our eyes.

when they don’t even know what they are living,

why we stopping ourselves from being nice?

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