This is a poem describing the feelings of those kids who are compelled to work as a labour in their juvenescence.
Why should I still agonise,
Shattered destiny had played its role all my life,
My infancy had already evanesced,
Crushing my will under their feet, the devils retraced.
They took my pen and gave me hammer,
Stole my words and made me stammer,
My dusty feet had never felt the warmth of shoes,
The Grey cloud had nabbed my canvas hues.
Sunken eyes look for a pipe dream,
The weather – beaten hands still want to write,
Feet on sun – baked mud, hop in pain,
Prompting to take me away from their sight.
Getting frequent cacoethes,
Of meeting my makers,
And asking him once, is this what he sent me here for?
For working over all the tedious chores?
Why doesn’t anyone hear my voice?
My silence shrieks louder than your aloyse,
Take me out of this living hell,
Hiding from them, in the caves I dwell….
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