On my way to office,
I saw a young boy, of a tender age.
With innocence in his face,
And his clothes in a mess.
He begged by the roadside,
With hunger in his eyes.
He was shrugged off by the people,
Like a bug too feeble.
Then a dog passed by him with a loaf of bread,
And he chased the dog with no dread.
Away at a road side gutter,
He ate the stale bread with no ounce of butter.
He shared, the bread with dog besides,
Cause, he knew how it feels in a hungry stomach inside.
Like the dog he had no identity,
Both were the children of the almighty.
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