A stolen morsel more precious than gold,
A stolen shirt to keep out the cold,
Was indicative of no price to hunger,
But who cared for the question of him being too younger?
A destitute was called a 'thief' by literally everyone,
And toiled for the part of his life that was to be spent in fun,
His needs were many but hardships were in tonne,
But who cared for how much, with the world he is done?
Continuous judging transformed him accordingly,
And no one saw his want for the needs yearningly,
Needless to ask for he was compelled to do it willingly,
But who cared for giving him shelter embracingly?
Something was there puissant enough,
His was like a 'burden' and this made him tough,
Everyone complained for his whole existence that was rough,
But who cared for his well being rather than their bluff?
A child, a mere child was forced to steal things,
So as to sustain life not for Silver Springs,
Felt by everyone, the need for trimming a poor's wings,
But who cared for the miseries poverty brings?
©mypoetess
M