It's three in the morning.

40 thousand coming everyday

There was two great blaze,
80 years or so ago,
Glinting like a hole in your vision,
It killed man
and woman
and children
and anything out of boundaries.

Folks debate, over and over
About the cruelty,
Which they couldn't even see the tail of.
About the necessity of cruelty,
Which they know nothing of,

We care,
for thousands perished in an instance,
80 years ago,
but not the cries of someone,
walking down the road,
in ill fitted clothes,
barley holding down the urge to commit atrocity on what little he has left. 

Gaze upon them first.
Look with your own eyes,
not with a camera head,
not through shades,
not through judgement,
thinking he or she is what,
or how much of a what.

Look at them closely, and you'll see.
They already perished in a blaze,
but it wasn't a big one,
so you didn't care.

That, is cruelty without meaning.