I could not see that tear that oozed out of my eyes that night
When under the blue umbrella, I remembered her sight
She, my mom, could explain what it meant
If she were here, my smile would have been more than just a dent.
They took me from my garbage heaven,
 I thought I knew the meaning of cloud nine
Those plutocrats whom I deify, made me blind
Boiled my eyes, made me beg, made me grind
I am a 10-year-old blind beggar, who is destined not to have any fate
Thank God!! At least I can’t see, this world’s face of hate
I categorically am suffering from CHID LABOUR….
Heard of it…. Deja vu… isn’t it…

I am a small 8-year-old girl
After I came here my life is null
My father sold me to a brothel to pay his debts
Each day I am harassed by an armada of animals
 Who, disposition is of humans, can relinquish their needs via me?
Who will I be when I grow up? ‘A prostitute’ comes an instant patronymic reply
Thank God!! At least my father has scrimmaged a lot of money
I categorically am suffering from CHILD ABUSE…
Heard of it… Deja vu… isn’t it…

I am a 7-year-old boy, who works at construction sites
Ask me of plumbing or of bricks, but no one ever told me what’s 1+5
I sometimes dream of living in a larder
Then I am jerked with a canapé in stomach
I am the only earner of the family
But still my father bets us and sleeps calmly
Our presence is seen as a gauche deed
We wait for an equinox , when our dark penury nights will match the days of rich
Let me ameliorate myself if I blame god ‘cause that is erroneous
Actually, I am categorically suffering from LOST CHILDHOOD…
Heard of it… Deja vu… isn’t it…

If still these stories don’t sound familiar
Please show me your world, will you share
Where childhood and adolescence is not snatched
But is secured and bloomed till it is hatched
Where these Deja vu’s never exist
And the eyes are filled with dreams instead of mist
Every child is an innocent talisman of our world
Their aching heart is a mayday of help
SOS….is echoed from their stitched mouths
Death is what they demand in such a gullible stage of life
These children are a part of god’s face

For once, see them as children, not labourers, and see the change.

A Deja Vu Poem by:
Ms. Naina

 

(Copyright with Superjobsonline.com)