Children Without Hope - Poem by Sharad Chandra
I see them everyday
in the street, backyard, shops, houses
filling air in the cycle tubes
cleaning cars, cups, and vessels
to make a little money
earn a meal.
Oh! these children without hope.
My horror gives way
and then pity...
soon I become immune,
isn’t man born selfish?
Oh! when will my heart roar,
in compassionate rage
and wrench me from apathy?
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