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Child Labour
Oh, the little buds are here!
They ought to be flowers now, but are still mere buds,
Not in the petals of childhood,
But, in the thorns of child labour.
They swoon in sadness, when,
They ought to twitter now and then,
In the bright light of education;
Their hopes and aims are still screams.
Oh, those patches of blisters are due to the packets of matches,
And the crackers, which go up in smoke, along with their dreams.
Oh, their condition is so pathetic!
We are all very sympathetic,
For poverty is the prize for their work,
And exploitation and cruelty is all they face,
So, they wait for eternity to enjoy the bliss of childhood.
Alas! Young boys, are we to enjoy
In the cries of other boys?
Every child is a bird, which will fly when its wings, are strong,
But, it must first see the light of joy.
Kausik R, X
Coimbatore: Lisieux Matric H.S. School
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