It is insulting to be called poor
When people see them going from door to door
Not virtually begging but asking for all the needs
That time only you realize the people’s greed
You can feel real hatred
That can be read
From their tone
And address spoken
I don’t know
What makes them to throw?
Such cheap words
That almost hurts
Your child faces problem
To get the books with lots of trouble
No help is forthcoming and goes for charity
There he receives no help but sense of inferiority
I have faced it over and felt
That to be poor is like rubbing salt
Into wounds and get feeling of pinch
The same kind of pain is felt as such
It is merely a luck that child is born
In poor family to see all ugly turns
Yet he has all hopes of rising
With new day and quite not surprising
Poor of today may be millionaire tomorrow
His future may be glorious and glow
With all that shine and humbleness
You can watch at that time the real happiness
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