Writing Contest : Thieving Little Scums

This piece of poetry is an entry to #bycolemancontest

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Pretty little dress with a doll to match,
That isn't that life that was in the catch,
It is a different canvas altogether,
One that holds the brush and strokes of grime, dirt and hunger.

They call us thieves and scums,
But all we wanted was to hunt for crumbs,
Our childhood stolen by poverty and destitution,
We roam the streets seeking for salvation.

The nights were mercilessly cold,
Where warmth is not in the fold,
We have never been told,
In warmth of covers of stories of fairies and pirates seeking gold.

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I once peeked through a window to a sight,
A fireplace that crackles and a family in laughter,
Tears trickled down and silent sobbing I fought,
A life I so long but isn't one here after.

An empty stomach didn't pervade the dream,
Dream to have love, shelter and warmth in theme,
We want, we crave and we desire,
But, it is nothing but an empty hall to a choir.

The cravings are becoming frail,
When we are reminded that our life's on the rail,
The suffering and hardship is real,
Time to end the dream and cut a real deal.

We are afterall, the Children of the Streets.

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credit to @zomagic