Thy skin. Burned by the raging heat of the mighty sun.
Thy face. Painted with a shadow of grief.
Thy eyes. Has lost hope but willing to take chances.
Thy smile. Momentarily substitute the ever lasting pains.
Thy body. Evidence of the what so called poverty.
Thy heart. Bruised by societal discrimination.
Thy feet. Crumpled and strengthened by the dusty and rocky road.
Thy ears. Deafened by all the unsolicited screams.
Thy back. Hardened by the burden and load they carry.
Thy hands. Toiled with undying urge to live.
Thy treasure. Someone else’s garbage.
Thy sweat. Sign of the unwanted tiredness.
Thy food. Someone’s leftovers.
Thy clothes. Torn and dirty, but covers thou from the cold nights.
Thy screams. Loud but unheard.
Thy sorrows. Left unsaid.
Thy hope. Disregarded.
Thy home. The streets.
Thy journey. Endless.
Thy strength. LIFE.
Thy called. BASURERO!