Grinding Poverty

Have a look at those young souls. They seem to be haunted by the very spectre of tomorrow. The grinding poverty outside, Leaves them with no choice other than to toil and borrow. No precious possessions to call as their own, No food, no shoes, not even a safe shelter. The grinding poverty outside, Makes them least bothered about the absence of smartphones and gadgets. Opened to great suffering and pain, Their skinny body gets frowned upon. The grinding poverty outside, Rendered them helpless as their babies groan and sigh. Wakes up in the middle of the night, Because of their grumbling hunger. Alas! The grinding poverty within, Sets them back to sleep under the ramshackle roof. Breathes of despair fills their body, Just like those tears of their fight for survival in their eyes. The grinding poverty outside, Have made them taste misery in all flavours. Plague, poison and pestilence, Became the predator for the most vulnerable. The grinding poverty outside, Led them to lead their lives in destitute. The stars that glow reminds them of the flicker of life, For with every passing day, their misery seemed to grow. Lingering around the streets with that torn robe, Their fight for a loaf of bread continued...