The child of filth..
Dwelling under the roofless skies,
Living on the edge...
Breathing the suffocating air,
Tangled, tanned - her hair are rough.
Dry, Harsh, Dark - her skin.
She droops with the pressure:
The child in her is dead.
Drowning in her own tears,
She is everyday...
She loathes the world.
Though - She is not afraid!
Everyday for her..
Is a battle..
To just LIVE.
She knows no God or Hope..
Nor of Family or Friends..
She only knows that PEOPLE exist!
Some like her, some better,
Some happy, some sad,
Some optimistic, some pessimistic,
Some harsh, some soft,
et al..
But none worse..
She dies a death everyday!
And she is born again,
To only die!
She is:
a beggar girl..
On the Mumbai street.