Life has been quite awful for many people these days but nothing Worst than the adversities of the poor labourers in India.
They have been over utilised, exploited by the capitalists for building their empire and now they have been dumped on the road to suffer with no food, no help.
All they want is to return home when the world is stagnant with no work around. My heart grieves for them.
Poverty speaks….
My sweat built
Your soaring Castles
I gulped tremendous pain
To Fulfil your worldly desires
And I didn’t complain
Even for a second
For the tiny bread
You thrown at me in return
But now when I want you
To stand by me
You only discarded me
I am bruised,
But I have not lost hope
I will walk forever on the road
The place where my heart is
The place called home.
My sufferings are not new
May not shake your inner core
Because maybe I am poor
And poverty is only meant
To lie on the road and suffer!
Be grateful to what you have and be an Angel for the needy!