Bootless Hope

Intense struggle for survival soar
As the days go by
The wee child stares
Searching for this bootless hope

Like a parasite
It bores through the body
A short while after
The angel of death knocks

Oh! What a poor child,
Look how skinny he is,
He looks verily hungry,
This is the incessant comments of passers-by

They stare, natheless do nothing
They confront ruth, natheless withdraw their help
They watch these youngsters suffer
Natheless their lads party

The wee child walks over
Stretching his rugged hands
The passerby dodges
And warns to keep away

The wee child watches in bootless hope
As he continues his search
At the end he receives little to nothing
At long last returns to his maker