The Abuse In Third World Orphanage

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start