I CRY FOR THESE CHILDREN

Kids smelling of sweat and dirt bend over your shoulders to view your photos with you.Their mouths emanate a pungent smell of a mixed food gone stale,but they still laugh loud,then cough right on your cheeks.

Their dusty garments in contact with your sensitive skin and against your sofa set which is hard to clean,you don’t want to be mean by sending them away,especially if they already don’t like you.

They grin at each swipe,revealing some yellow teeth,layers of food piled up,you might mistake it for a food store.The white on their upper lip gives you an image of a flu-last-long.

Their torn black shorts sewed with green strings and white shirts that have never had a taste of water,you will never know their original color.They run around revealing a black ass though they never seem to mind.

Foots bare and cracked,caressing stones and thorns without a flinch, they have never known the flavour of shoes.

They breath in air,harder than anyone else,one,to prevent the river that flows down their nose from meeting it’s ocean,more like ensuring it doesn’t leave it’s source,two because it’s the only thing they can afford in bulk,so they run to make maximum use of the resource.

Life for them,is cold.The cracks in their walls and the holes in their roofs keep them outside even when they are inside,they grow up knowing neither comfort nor luxury.No father’s care,no mama’s sacrifice,no sister’s guidance, no brother’s protection.The things they lack.
Pure rejection is all they have,leading a life of dejection and no child-right protection.They lack all the things they need.

Clean up these kids when they’ve had a busy day in the fields,feed them when they ask for a meal,strive as a parent or a guardian to provide their needs or refrain from having them in the first place.

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