Look at the eyes that cry out blood, the desperate, the lonely and the unloved. Their homes of cardboard, as fragile as their smile, we love amongst them, yet we are in denial. Giving generously to the rich, their materialistic products of new, yet does it ever satisfy you? The cold nights arrive, bins lit on fire, freezing and alone...their condition dire. Barefoot and hungry, they wonder the streets aimlessly, cracked pathway, wet and in pain, their cries muffled out, their tears lost in the rain. The dream of a better day, where daily meals are a basic affair. They smile at people that pass; do you think that's fair? Hands out in desperation, we hand them change in hesitation. Broken, demoralised and alone. The nights of silence broken by a moan.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem