Scattered hair, shabby clothes
Filthy corners, shattered windows
Gleamy lashes for hunger and hopes
Neither a meal nor the meadows.
Slogging barefoot on the heap of dirt
For the ragged glitter, Oh! Their 'Gold'
Cursed heir born in dearth
Of basic amenity, he'd not hold
The 'high class' scowls, adds the agony
Their stale food, for them is jam.
So, here's a wish to work in harmony
To stand for nobility, To do for them.
The lurking childhood, the in cognizant souls
The ill-fed skeletons, the prisoners of fate
Stigmatized by people for the selfish goals
Denounced by wealthy for their doomed traits.
Yet the innocent smiles, shooed by cruel abuse
Carry the mental trauma in tattered garbs
Coining 'the anathematized lives', we act recluse
Shun them, pun them, agitate with barbs
So, let's stand, hand in hand, and not condemn
To astound their fortune, To do for them.
Your little toy house, their big dream
Your rags are their riches
Give them a drop, they'll return you a stream
Just a show of affection and they'll jump the ditches
So, with benevolence and generosity uplift these gems
To illuminate their life, To do for them.
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