Wanderers and crawlers, creeping above and beneath garbage.
Blackish cockroaches slithering through rusted scrapyards.
Hydrophobic rodents which only bath in dust and ashes.
Clothes teared by dirt and odour, skin as dust of coals.
Cursed by pharmaceutical medicine and crossbred medical pills.
Set aflame of its essence to produce poisoned substances.
They were once gleaming men, but now tantalizing Scrapivores.
Dead brain cells vacuumed by slow motion speech.
Prawns that harvest scraps to feed their aching stomachs.
Homeless houses filled with grievous women cursing their wombs.
Stolen home utensils and battered for a gram of poisonous powder.
And merciless society has bullied them red in public streets.
Here lies the Dumping Site of our youth and children.
Gone astray with no hope of redemption and rebirth.
A youth that were friends and neighbour-mentors.
But now skeletal structures mired by dirt and a choking smell.
Scrapivores, consumers of rust and scraps.
Minions of sweet bread crumbs and dry scones.
Peeling lips, blurred eyes, paws of toes in broken sneakers.
May the country mourn and cast lamentations.