Street children

Where are their parents?
Are they gone with the wind?
Their offspring eat fluorescent tubes,
Cut their hands, do acrobats and beg something for their daily bread.
These trample flowers sleep on the roads under the helpless sky
And in their dreams of paradise no angels exist.
But the sex abusers peep in friendly manner.

dedication to *UNICEF

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!