If you think you have heard
Cries so loud,
Then you need to listen
To this silent one.
Present on the lips
Of that peasant widow,
Outspoken in the silent croon
Of those loud children.
Expressed on the faces
Of boys whose names
Have no place
In wealthy handbooks.

You’d think it was
But a stupid grin, but wait…
That widow’s eye is blackened,
Those children are looking measly
And on the hands of those boys
Lies the beautiful sight
Of ugly begging bowls.

Now who is to blame?-
Is it the widow,
Who allowed her husband to die?
Or the children who decided
That a poor family would be home to them?
Or the boys who refused
To allow their luck to shine,
On their already darkened paths?

The answer to these questions
I do not know yet myself…