Scattered hair, shabby clothes

Filthy corners, shattered windows

Gleamy lashes for hunger and hopes

Neither a meal nor the meadows.

Slogging barefoot on the heap of dirt

For the ragged glitter, Oh! Their 'Gold'

Cursed heir born in dearth

Of basic amenity, he'd not hold

The 'high class' scowls, adds the agony

Their stale food, for them is jam.

So, here's a wish to work in harmony

To stand for nobility, To do for them.

The lurking childhood, the in cognizant souls

The ill-fed skeletons, the prisoners of fate

Stigmatized by people for the selfish goals

Denounced by wealthy for their doomed traits.

Yet the innocent smiles, shooed by cruel abuse

Carry the mental trauma in tattered garbs

Coining 'the anathematized lives', we act recluse

Shun them, pun them, agitate with barbs

So, let's stand, hand in hand, and not condemn

To astound their fortune, To do for them.

Your little toy house, their big dream

Your rags are their riches

Give them a drop, they'll return you a stream

Just a show of affection and they'll jump the ditches

So, with benevolence and generosity uplift these gems

To illuminate their life, To do for them.