Their empty palms wait a token,
Their tear-filled eyes bore,
They beg – in voice broken…

Tell me; why do they clench –
These ten fingers of yours,
Offended by the stench?

Say it; why do they turn –
These twin eyes of yours,
Restless and full of scorn?

Pray tell; why do they close –
These twinging ears of yours,
Deaf to the beggar’s prose?

Your hands are full of bread;
Do you see the ones asking?
Hear, their pleas – full of dread!

Written by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson

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