My heart cries for them,
As they can not perfectly claim,
They live in the dingy slum
And their eyes are never calm.
Their faces are hungry,
They always remain angry,
They are not at all constructive,
As they are made to be obstructive.
They are used to quarrel
And they often like to snarl,
Their eyes are dark
And they can never spark
Their world is trivial and small
And they are deceived by all;
We must think for them,
My heart cries for them.
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