The Beggars Pang Poem by Oke Olumide

We are the men
Born to the slum
And dwell on the street
We eat in our broken plates
Under bridges in darkness
And drink from our grimy cups
Maybe we have no good fate

We are the men
Found of all filthy jobs
Like pig in the dirt
Picking our daily meals
Of debris and wastes
Fighting our survival
Maybe we have no destiny

We are beggars
Living on arms
The crumbs we cherish
Down the table of riches
That offer charity
And not even love
But sacrifice
To brightens their gloomy ways
Maybe future is not for us

We are the men
Shivering in the silent night
Beside the breezing sea
And under the open cloud
When you’re on your raised foam
Within the standing walls
Cuddle to your love ones
We quiver in our running tunnel
Under our rotten blankets
Maybe our gods live no more

This life has brought us mystery
With no glimpse of hope
The fountain is sour to taste
It only brings hardship
But the life over the river side
Is our hope
Where no riches reign
And our tears we be washed away
Cleansed in the cool rain
Our bruise will be covered
With golden flesh
We are beggars with hope.