Located In a desolated outskirt; in one corner,
There is one building silently fading its color,
People call it Orphanage, there is no wonder.
Complex surrounded by high walls and iron bar,
Looks more like; as it is holding prisoners of war,
But here live children with no face; no history,
Identity of caretakers of orphanage is a mystery.
A child with no name, no face; neglected,
Finds his home here and always accepted,
Not to live but to survive a life; humiliated,
A guilt embedded in him for being rejected.
Best bed to sleep here is a cleaned floor,
4feet x 2 feet and they ask you no more,
Everyplace, everything is dirty in colour,
Dirt so much; even your vision will blur.
To feel their very existence and the god grace
Sometimes Few People plan a visit this place.
They bring pencils, notebooks and chocolates,
Just for transient happiness on children’s face.
THIS IS AN ORPHANAGE.
