I met a child, armed with a bright smile
I stopped and stared as his face lit mine,
He held out a bowl and I put something in
All of a sudden his peers rushed in..
Hungry and weary, dirty and broken
With their bowls they roam the streets, their eyes sunken
Swarm foreigners for alms and food
Shown no love; they never begged to be born
Left to fate to show them where to roam,
In rare moments you can catch a glimpse
Of the hunger, tiredness and resignation to life
It makes all my adulthood problems feel like a joke
To see kids beg for every single meal,
They grow old, they pick a trade
They become the victims of life and fate
To him who pays dictates their song
A life of crime, poverty and hate,
Still yet I’m marveled by a few,
Who despite all odds remain humble and true
Still holding that bright smile through the years
Feeling blessed yet with no place to rest…
