Look into her eyes, they are bloodshot red,
Peek into her palms, they are full of deep cuts,
do you know why?
She visits you every day,
Do you know who she is?
Her throat is parched, she sorely needs water,
Can you slake her burning thirst?
The deep festering wounds in the soles of her feet
leave behind a trail of blood-spattered footprints.
Her beaming smile is inconspicuous to the world`s eye.
So is her mental agony and eyes filled with hot tears of anguish.
Drowning she is, but who ponders about her?
Purgatory indeed is every microsecond of her life.
Her cage of flesh and bones houses a sagacious soul.
She lives her life moment to moment.
Plodding away every moment of her existence.
No thought about reward or recognition,
her cloudy eyes look for just one spectacle,
Her child`s triumph in this struggle for existence.
Famished she is, her concave stomach rumbling,
A single morsel of food has not glided through her throat for days.
A packet she holds firmly in her hands.
Rushing to her shack, she beholds her child asleep.
Leaving the packet by her child`s side,
She moves out to weep,
She weeps and wails,
Certainly, unheard, unseen, unknown.
Her eyes bloodshot red, her feet bleeding,
her palms deeply hurting,
her broken heart excruciating.
Her raison d'être, to catch a glimpse of her child`s success,
And she can do everything for it.
Do you know her?
Do you know who she is?
I wonder who that is??
ReplyDeletelook around, not with the usual lens, but alter your objective, and look at those, whom you usually really don't give a thought about.
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