The Street Orphan
I wake to the sound of a whistling train,
I wonder how this day will pass, I fear its pain.
Now, for my breakfast coins I need to beg,
I have no clothing, just a rag.
As I tread along and the ground hurts my bare feet,
I watch people dressed smart and neat.
I watch other children go to school,
While fate leaves my soul for streets to rule.
I watch faces, some kind, some rude,
I see what life has deprived me, I brood.
I have no fancy toys to play,
There’s none to make happy and gay.
As the sun goes down and the night draws near,
Another feeble morrow of this kind, I fear.
Today, hunger has left me so tired and pale,
It’s bedtime, but no Mama to read me a fairy tale.
And with no Papa’s arms to wrap me round,
It’s just loneliness and insecurity that surround.
I cry but no one dries my tears,
Will I grow like this through the years?
The Child Prostitute
Life gifted me a pretty face,
A friendly smile, some charming grace.
But poverty denied me even a square meal,
Fate seemed harsh and will too frail to deal.
And even before I faintly realised,
I had my human dignity compromised.
It was when someone promised me happiness to stay,
And misled my innocence to walk the brothel’s way.
Today, I am a victim of disgraced labour,
I trade off my own self for a few coins to gather.
Lustful and crude hands handle me,
Their ugly passions truly frighten me.
My young heart has to remain dauntless to these fears,
This little money costs me my tears.
Yet, many condemn me, but a few understand,
How I yearn for this misery to end.
Some pity me, but just walk away,
“Get me out of this rut”, is all plead and say.
