Under the shadows of darkness
We take ghostly steps
Scrambling and struggling
For partitions on dumping grounds
To survive.
Like vultures we feed on wasted crumbs
Filling our broken tables with unpalatable meals
Concealing our naked forms
With tattered thread-bare rags
Hiding our heads under roofless rickety houses.

Making our beds with woods and stones
We lay on it
Behind closed eyes
We are plagued with the sight of
Frail fragile bruised bodies
Walking on long thin skeletal legs
Carrying oversized heads on
Protruding kwashiorkor stomachs
Famished tear-filled eyes
Cast aspersions on our living.

Poverty clings to us extremely
Diseases lurk in every corner
Is this our cross to bear?
Was being born
Our only crime?

by Khemmie Ray

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