On a cold and dirty bench,
They lay down their tired young lives.
Over the crude streets of reality,
They walk with their small bare feet.
Behind the back of the indifference,
They meet in secret with their tears.
They have no valid reasons to smile,
It seems like for them the sun will not rise.
They are angels,
Angels from heaven
Whose joy and glow have been stolen
By selfishness and evil.
All they know is the pain of never-ending hunger,
their only companion is the unmerciful cold.
Their little hands reaching out
hold on tight to broken dreams
while their eyes silently scream: “I need you!”
They are angels
who from a cold and dirty bench
witness empty days and endless nights
While we, elude them in our hearts.
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