I Am A Garbage Collector. Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

In the hills of your want not,
hidden are the most want,
I am the lone garbage collector,
to pick up all those treasure,

torn are my clothes and the sack,
stitched with the needles of hope,
flies are here and they are the friends of,
the rats, where the crows of opportunists,

encircle with sensitive and hungry beak,
I am a lone garbage collector,
and do not want any detractor,
The Litter of mine are just five,

sluggish hubby finds it easy,
idling and beating are his hobbies,
the trees in the jungles are not watered,
still they grow by themselves,

everyone calls me too careless,
when I think of the hidden rice,
in every object you throw as the waste,
which place is the best to go for the hunt,

which area is ideal where people are generous,
with discounted housing and the food,
people can't understand what we need,
They look at us as the dirt,

They chase us always with,
so much hatred in their hearts.
Whether We are the recyclers of the third world,
or the first world, our eyes already dried.