Surrounded by the luxurious,
Ample affluents of classes,
Inside in the edge a small Ones,
Malnutrition, unemployed, illiterate and ill-fated,
Masses lives but always ill at ease.
Bread without butter, Rice without pulse
Veggie Slightly seen.
Milk never desire to drink,
Discarded items daily delighted,
But that are needed for the nerves
For melting muscles Sunken eyes
Several an hours stopped Stomach,
Forces to serve.
Tattered apparels dirt full of unseen germs
Cracked Swollen feet inside the plastic sheets,
Mist of black blanket covered undesire soul
Oh! Poor little ones, no one to hold,
Life may be glitter like gold.
When they try to behold
Alas! they stretch continuous,
inside the deeper hole
We behold, they always behold,
But no eyes goes on the poor soul.
Anameic tender faces want light,
But in tender hands,
Broom and water pipe is common sight,
For blooming of greenish odours,
Who care for dull roots hands?
Which yet not know,
Where fate stand?
Their fate of future drying up,
The hands which have to books and bags
But why they care of that.
The body full of fats,
In gloom linear leg,
Wash their path, that looks always
Fresh, not a single part of mess.
What is snacks and what is meal?
For them the slice make them to survive,
Are they always born for slave
Older, younger tender age?
Why we not stop the tender hands,
That their life don't become the sand.
Planting and watering their future
Behold them and Bring the beauty
Nurturing these tenders behold
them and
Think for a while,Why we not save their life.
From deeper ditch inside
And bring smile
and bring smile.
Ample affluents of classes,
Inside in the edge a small Ones,
Malnutrition, unemployed, illiterate and ill-fated,
Masses lives but always ill at ease.
Bread without butter, Rice without pulse
Veggie Slightly seen.
Milk never desire to drink,
Discarded items daily delighted,
But that are needed for the nerves
For melting muscles Sunken eyes
Several an hours stopped Stomach,
Forces to serve.
Tattered apparels dirt full of unseen germs
Cracked Swollen feet inside the plastic sheets,
Mist of black blanket covered undesire soul
Oh! Poor little ones, no one to hold,
Life may be glitter like gold.
When they try to behold
Alas! they stretch continuous,
inside the deeper hole
We behold, they always behold,
But no eyes goes on the poor soul.
Anameic tender faces want light,
But in tender hands,
Broom and water pipe is common sight,
For blooming of greenish odours,
Who care for dull roots hands?
Which yet not know,
Where fate stand?
Their fate of future drying up,
The hands which have to books and bags
But why they care of that.
The body full of fats,
In gloom linear leg,
Wash their path, that looks always
Fresh, not a single part of mess.
What is snacks and what is meal?
For them the slice make them to survive,
Are they always born for slave
Older, younger tender age?
Why we not stop the tender hands,
That their life don't become the sand.
Planting and watering their future
Behold them and Bring the beauty
Nurturing these tenders behold
them and
Think for a while,Why we not save their life.
From deeper ditch inside
And bring smile
and bring smile.
