In the dark room
Of steel and fire,
Little fingers labor
Their sweat fueling the pyre.
Freedom denied
They don't go to play
Slave to their misfortune
They work night and day.
Never seen a better day,
Never felt their mother's embrace,
They are denied every right
And given no dignity, shown no grace
Day in and day out
They bear the furnace's heat
For their meager meal,
They scavenge the garbage heap.
Laboring beyond their limits
They work without any wage.
Their life and future are
Destroyed at a tender age.
Looking up at the vast
And all-embracing sky,
They bear no one any ill-will
And dare not ask, "Why I?"
======================================
This poem has been deliberately left incomplete. It is now upto us. Do we give them hope and fight for their liberty? Or do we sit back blind to their plight?
