Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2019
Sweeps the
Dirt on his clothes
With disappointment in the heart
Coming to a broken
Home to lost souls
Looking for his mum
Stop throwing kids
On the street
Where they have no name
And no identity
Give them homes
Illegal immigrants
Somehow get trapped
In this country
Smiles of gold, they had stolen the change from a rich stranger's pockets.
Aditya Roy
Written by
Aditya Roy  27/M/New Delhi, India
(27/M/New Delhi, India)   
89
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems