In a dingy room I stay,
With tell tale signs of decay
A dozen of starving children
Live here in conditions rotten
A vague memory of childhood home,
Wistful hues of the deepening gloam,
A drunkard father who would beat the mom,
Sold me to a person who greased his palm,
Bid farewell to my siblings and mom in tears,
With my tiny heart filled with ominous fears.
Our tiny fingers knit rugs
Living in filth amongst bugs
Bleeding fingers and teary eyes,
Each little child desperate lies
Justice , humanity is enslaved,
With signs of horror are souls engraved.
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