A Poor Girl's Plight Poem by Vasanthi Papu

A pretty little girl stood under a tree
And let her mind wander free.
She battled to expel her endless pain;
But all her efforts ended in vain.

The dainty butterflies give no charm
To the heart that bore insults and harm.
Even the waves touch the shore and leave
But her troubles stick hard just to grieve.

Right from her birth nothing went right,
Mental agony and misery bound her tight.
Of course misfortunes never come single
With her, fever and fret always mingle.

Joy and peace shut her the gate,
Born of poor parents is her fate.
Rest and sleep forsake the girl you see
Who works round the clock as busy as a bee.

Had she not lost her parents at the age of five,
She wouldn't have entangled in the maze and strive.
There is none to shower her love and care,
Oh! her doleful plight is hard to bear.

All that the girl does is found fault,
Life to her is nothing but bitter salt.
All that she wants now is a lifting hand,
As she staggers without a firm stand.

This is the plight of every orphan
Whose poignant sobs we hear often.
Mercy and kindness man should show,
To the innocent children born so low