You can hear their cries at night,
You hear them, and put them out of minds sight,
Don't want to face it,
No you can't embrace it,
That when you go past that road where you last saw her,
She will no longer be there that street girl, that pauper,
But what can we do?
It's not my business so "shoo! "
Why should we care?
Their only street children that are worse for wear,
But deep down it should hurt you,
Can't you feel that feeling just that little bit blue?
For the lonely child who curl up cold at night,
Who lives and terror, fear and fright,
Yet others will simply not see the plea in their eyes,
And ignore their moans and desperate cries,
Though they push through,
With hunger and heart with nothing else to do,
Searching for food when the night comes to a closure,
Searching in the morning for scraps of food left over
Caring for their relatives if they have any,
Begging and begging for spare change or a penny,
Yes they once had a life and a family,
Yet look at them now and what they've come to be,
But weather you believe it or not,
They still have feelings while their happiness will rot,
They have to avoid the police, as they are not good,
And don't give support like you'd expect they would,
But each child has their memories, There old life their story, Only their love to poses as their pride and glory,
Hardly any food at all, only crumbs so not a lot,
And their names and identity, long forgot,
So if you hear something when it's dark, don't turn on that light, Because you already know that's the street children's cries echoing through the night. Jem Solley
Poem By: Moonchild275
Submitted: Dec 10, 2008 Reads: 1093 Comments: 0 Likes: 0
Children line the streets
No older than five or six
Whilst their parents lie under the trees
Waiting for their next fix
These kids beg for money
50c or a R1 coin
Their fathers don’t care that beggars...