to many my birth is a curse.
Hands dirty, full of mud,
I am burnt dark under the sun.
Cuts and bruises on the whole,
I run barefoot without a sole.
Holes hang on my chest,
their threads together make my vest.
Innocent eyes, fuzzy hair,
I build castles in the air.
This world is my stage, and
knows my birth date.
Nature is my best mate,
it showers me with love and faith.
Oblivious of my past,
nonchalant about my future,
my present is full of ambiguity.
To survive each day, every hour,
I wage a war against my own destiny.
Each time I fall, only to rise,
just one question is asked by my mind.
'He' is said to be equal and fair,
then why this suffering only you have to bear?
Into reality as I wander to seek the answer right,
we realize, that life is a race, and each experience a phase.
It has speed that excites, victory that delights,
and defeat that incites.
To win and survive, one has to relentlessly strive.
as one stop means the end of your game....
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