Walking about in torn and tattered clothes, Looking messy with a running nose.
Crippled, unable to walk properly,
The arrogant man, looks at him disdainfully.
The other day the car almost ran her down,
As she leaped forward, begging For an aim,
Hand outstretched, unable to see,
In the sun, wearing dark glasses,
Makes him look shady.
For a cheap rate, They are bought,
Are they, Children of a Lesser God?
ZEENAT IQBAL HAKIMJEE
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