Identity

With deafening laughter and threatening voice,
He asked "Who are you?", "Where do you belong?"
Tremble voice: "I am the downtrodden one, who lives in the dirty pavements"
Left for experiencing nothingness sans agitation,
A one who is forbidden to a good night and a share of sweet dreams,
Waiting more and more for a kind visage,
Alas! each day leaves with never ending pangs and screams...
I let you exploit me, to crucify my tomorrow,
Held your promise of bright future alongside the sorrows,
You always had something to take and meagre to offer,
I belong to you and each one who dwells in comfort because of my hardships,
Call me a labour, toiler or a slave,
Bleed me to death with your coward whips,
At last the mockery must die, I leave like a martyr,
To your decayed rule; mark my last good bye.