SOULCHILD from the archives of a #‎ChildRightActivist‬



Voices, I hear voices

Small, weak utterances crying for help

Pleading, groaning, yelping

Fixing pain in my mind

Pressing the feeling of someone in need

Poverty being its backbone

like a church mouse

incarcerated by pauperism


Nature saw me jaundiced

In my eyes was the curse

That I was dunderhead

and couldn’t go to school

My parents were denied life

By their pleasures of life

Mama was men’s night nurse,

the world new her generosity.

she easily accepted injections

in exchange for money

and never satisfied by papas single dose

Papa was so rich

His many wives were his wealth

Both tried to chase life

ignorant of life’s emergent wings

Now street is what I know

Sleeping in mucky places

Cold creeping down my veins

Hungry, tired, naked, discomfort

Lonely like a desert rat

Always sorrowful

Looking desperate

Joy being a nightmare

Questions forming in my mind

Why? Why? Why?

Why specifically me?

Sometimes I just need a hug

A word of comfort

Someone to call mummy, daddy

Huh. I miss such words

To have a smile cracking my mask

But everyday full of tragic tears

Wishing for a miracle to happen

Hopefully outstretching my hands

Entreating the passers-by

But getting in return,

spatting, ignorance,seizing in jails!

Not your business!

My existence is not your business?

Even if I smell that is mine

At least I bathe when am rained on

While stooping from pit to pit

looking for what could have been thrown out

by those who buy much to see them expire.