Anger Of A Child Neglected

I do not care who you are.
The color of gloaming has
Not yet gone into my eye.
I am a child who does not
Recognize his mother like
The child of a cobra. I hate
Pretentions and wear a
Difficult smile before a
Stranger. I do not care if
You care for me. If you
Don't it does not matter
To me. I hear your voice,
Chiding and throwing curses
At me as if I belong to
A low caste. You have
Once thrown an old shoe
At me because I spilled
Water from the glass
On to your new frock. I
Am scared now to enter
Into your world of comfort
You may turn me into a
Whore of the mean streets.

by Tiku akp

Comments (1)

Anger of a little neglected human is delicately depicted in this poignant write Liked it