Few Stood Up Poem by Hanan Muzafar

Every moment a suffering,
and everyday disappointing;
society shattered us,
it choked us.

We landed in a ditch,
worst than a sink;
somehow getting food,
at least it's good.

Faced brutal rejections,
and dangerous evolutions;
Roll the dice,
who's name on slice.

Nights with bugs,
and bodies of rugs;
In a scum,
making the fulcrum.

We made our clan,
a lethal plan;
miserable lives,
and survival tactics.

We growed claws,
accepted our flaws;
We became brothers,
from different mothers.

Upto neck under debt,
I'm not done yet;
creating a show,
an unbreakable flow.