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April 15, 2021

Children of the Slums

Imagine waking up on a filthy uneven floor –

light coming solely through the flimsy wooden wall.

Imagine trudging through the mud barefoot –

mud merged with remnants of God knows who.

Imagine breathing in thick layers of sooty dust –

the colors sullen, lifeless and dull.

Imagine smelling the scent of faeces and decay,

of diseases and of death every single day.

Imagine your belly gurgling with hunger and distraught,

sniffing glue – the only way to delude.

Imagine walking on rickety bridges –

a step amiss and drown you will in these murky watery ditches.

Imagine wearing the same old rags – all tattered and torn,

being beaten and battered, no rights of which to call your own.

Imagine having silly daydreams of going to school

but there’s not a penny to spare – not even for a worn-out book.

But alas, imagine no more for such Children exist.

With clouds misting their shiny eyes

And death hanging heavy upon their tiny, little feet.


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