Lost Generation

In the rough, cold pavement they sleep Prone to the elements that drain them deep A harsh concrete jungle where they live Their lives subsist on people who give They are children with adolescent minds Roaming the streets is their daily grind At red lights they run with rags on hand Wiping windshields as fast as they can When stomachs signal hungry pangs Relying on rancid food in trash cans Or press their noses outside restaurants Where people feast, they are in want They make their rounds begging for alms Seldom do people drop coins in their palms Most will just think they’ll use it for drugs Can’t fault them to feel like being mugged So when a convincing offer comes along They grabbed it even if they know it’s wrong To skillfully dip fingers and pick pockets And slice through bags to get one’s wallet So tell me! Do kids like those have a choice? The state is deaf to their pleading voice When programs are bare for social welfare Calamities are central when no one cares But here lies the problem and it’s the truth To fight crime we must look after our youth For when they have grown to be a man We can take comfort that we did all that we can!