Ghetto, my sprawling luxurious home,
Gunny bags filled with desires, numb,
Grungy dumpster hiding broken toys,
Gorgeous rags stitched with threads of joy,
Gruelling pain of blistered feet,
Grains of food, we rarely meet,
Glittering stars my roof overhead,
Good Morning! I never said.
TRIVIA
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{ The young boy from the ghetto speaks. A hint of the the life that he lives there. Every morning starts with a struggle for him. }
© Copyright Salvwi Prasad[POETICbug]