Child Labour

These small hands were made to play,

With dolls, toys and moulding clay.

Alas they're covered with grease and oil,

In an age where it's supposed to be just soil.

Some are helpless and some are forced,

It's sad that their stories are often unheard.

A few who dare to fight it out,

Have never since been able to shout.

Boys and girls who should be in school,

Are forced into scrubbing the baby pool.

Few are turned into servants and maid,

And have no one left to their aide.

Some are stuck in the flesh trade,

Their state is as good as dead.

Those who take on drug peddling,

Are ready to consume whatever they bring.

They have been robbed of their childhood,

Hence are unaware of bad and good.

Some dream of changing their life someday,

Though the ray of hope keeps drifting away.

We see them on streets and at traffic lights,

But don't ever give a thought on their plight.

Only the social media gets all the attention,

Doesn't matter even if it's a child in prison!

Those hands could have been neat and tidy,

We also could have been able to study.

If only you looked and took a split second,

Before disappearing around the bend.

Those dirty hands are not by choice,

The words we say are just a voice.

Had we been blessed with a different destiny,

Our future would also be bright and shiny.