Unknowns

Withering away under the melting sun, they cannot hear or breathe the green source of fun, phonetics without any comparison, adjectives sound condescending holding beneath a reason.

Pot belly is a rare commodity, the child a poster boy for natural calamity, this is your god's way to heaven, laughs the mad beggar with squinted eyes, the stairway to the sky is broken.

A glimpse of soul seen through linen, the borrowed rag of cotton, they both showcase the same quality, never could anyone imagine the similarity, nights spent in luck's shelter, bottles in line to be broken, no helter skelter.

The doors to the hut are only half open, kids keep roaming around the lawn frozen, the clothes are not enough for the frail body in motion, fake wine and brandy flow; only the women know as there ego doesn't overblow.

These are the tribes of unknowns, omnipresent they are, only eyes with empathy recognize need of the hour,houses of mud never called home, immeasurable the sweat, hollow bones.

There is no revolt in their blood, all of it spent in getting the kids meat, life a game where rewards are few, conditions favorable is an unreachable avenue,a killing joke hidden in their death, shallow graves on earth.