Blame Game Poem by Md. Ziaul Haque

The man accused the poor boy of stealing,
He repeatedly said that he didn’t steal a thing,
The man shouted like an angry lion and started beating,
The boy’s teardrops couldn’t soak the man’s feeling.

The man was kicking the boy like a football,
The spectators were like stones; they didn’t listen to the call,
Of the poor boy who was as innocent as a flower,
Alas! He breathed his last after an hour!

His departed soul won’t have to stay here on earth,
Where most of the humans’ hearts are awash with dirt.