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Ripped clothes, torn sandals
Or else walked barefoot,
Nobody understood.

Snotty nose,
Dark teeth;
Black nail polish.

Walking in the street
Begging for food;
Till the blood drips in such little feet.

Day and night
Naught and without;
A house to sought.

Went to sleep
With an empty stomach;
Not even a water of a single glass.

Torn card boards
Thrown by riches in the world;
Saved by these tiny children to ease their world.

Charities where?
NGO's where?
A question from this small little children.

Funds they seek
For a hungry sought feet;
Yet, million children in the street.

Where is the funds?
Where is their food?
Why they're still searching for goods?

Who owned the charities?
Who's involved with it?
Would they give some spare to the children in the street?

In the world of the small children
They only asked for food;
Yet, nothing gain, just hunger and pain.

They seek, they find
Food in a trash can;
They feel so happy as they stand.

But, why?
Why would they suffer?
Poverty and depraved hunger?

Yet, where?
Where is the funds?
Raising funds somewhere?

Who? Who's to blame?
A government of richness and shame?
Or officials who promise to put their name on fame?

How? How could this thing be?
When the street children are still looking for thee;
Food, shelter and clothing; they could name this three.

These questions they didn't know exist
Yet, they're seeking for it;
To end their suffering and to dance with their happy feet.

Learn more about this author, J.B. Blend.
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