Analysis of Shackles of Poverty

Born in the shackles of poverty, feeding the ravenous belly was my priority.
A is to ask, B to beg, C to chase the car till it sped.

Ever wondered how children's day would be like.
Half eaten burger, a stale pizza slice, few sips of coke, cold soggy fries.
Aren't you envious of the gleam in my eyes.

They say, when the days are cold and the nights are biting, A wish maker clad in red comes over riding.

O Angel,
Like and when other children pray, I have something to say.

My hands are dull and coarse.
Day long I crumble bricks and stones.
Spill your magic, make them soft and bright.
They aren't to work, shouldn't they write.

Blessed those tortoise who've shell to hide, for us the blanket is starry sky.

The other day a high heeled held a soft drink.
Don't gape, shoo away,
You.. just a stink.
My little heart stood small at the brink.

When they learn .. I burn in the sun to make a tiny earn.

In the garden they play
At junction I randomly stray.

They sleep with a wishful dream.
We dream to have a wishful sleep.

Dear God,
If children are the incarnation of grace,
Then why a discrimination to our race.

By:
Nayha Bhola