Rich and Ragged

Ragged jeans, half torn shirts;
Wretched bodies…worn out faces with faeces,
Tired eyes…beaten up…baffled by life,
...and a new boy walks away with a rich man’s attire…

New boy walks to his home,
Sits on the chair, while his maid serves his food,
He eats half…throws away the remaining,
…but on the street, the ragged boy spreads his bowl for alms…

Ragged boy’s day’s earning; a dollar…more or less,
Could he eat? Sleep? Or feed his children…? What does he do with it?
New boy spends his money of work,
In extravagance…unjust fragrance…

By the end of the day,
Both head to their home,
To ragged boy, earth’s a home…
New boy’s home; a mansion he owns…

New boy sleeps in his comfortable bed,
Ragged boy looks at the moon,
Spreads his arms, weeps…seeks for justice,
Lays on the ground, weeps and tries to sleep…

Did he sleep? I don’t know…
But I know for sure,
He’s got yet another day to work tomorrow…