A Child Of The Streets Poem by Orlando Belo

A child wanders in a metropolis jungle
of fifteen million people or more.
Too frightened to ask for help,
hungry, thirsty, tired, and sore.

Reddened eyes that once wept
for hours, days, and weeks.
Unwashed torn clothes and body.
But who cares if this child reeks.

Parents' advice about strangers,
remains ingrained in one's mind.
Do they accept or run if sweets are offered?
It's hard to know if someone is being kind.

Very few thoughts are now given to loneliness,
survival is hard when you're young and alone.
In some dark alley at the rear of a restaurant,
is a garbage bin and a cardboard box called home.

Days spent looking for food, clothes, and a little money,
running from pimps, perverts, and the police.
Trapped in a corner whilst eating a stolen apple by the river,
police and social workers have another child of the streets.