Stolen Childhood

They stand alone

though together.

Life is nothing

to them,but survival.


They search for life

in heaps of garbage

their sole refuge.

In that mess

happiness they try to find.

A dollar bill,

a torn frill

or a useless old box

this is what they call treasure hunt.


They are shabby street urchins

covered with grime.

The street is their home

where dwell the rejected

their world grey and void

and of all happiness devoid.


They see children their age

dressed up for school

accompanied by their mothers,

showered with extra love and affection

their innocent minds cannot comprehend.

They barely see their parents

as they work to survive.


They cease to exist.

They cease to dream

to break the bonds of poverty

to live with dignity.

They seek to live 

where justice prevails

where they are granted

their freedom and rights

for which they need not fight.


They seek for help

and not mere passersby

who stop only for a second

feeling sorry about their situation

and then walk by as if nothing happened.


They try to find

their lost childhood

on the streets or in little scraps of leftovers.

Is this all that they deserve?

Is it something too much to ask for?

A better childhood.



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