Is Garbage Dump My Childhood?

Is Garbage Dump My Childhood?

I know not
Who is my father
When I was only eight years old
Mother's love also left me alone
Still I remember
Inconsolable face of mother

I rise early in the morning
To glean the roadside garbage
That's my routine
And my childhood

I've never seen the school
What is a book
I do not know
But what is garbage
How is the smell of the litter
I know everything

I am very punctual
And never late in my profession
To collect garbage on roadside
That is my little childhood

What are the dreams
No one has ever told me
How the dreams look like
Would my dreams ever come true
When I will also with bag
Go to the school smilingly

I wish all this were true,
But not because
Childhood waits for me daily
In the garbage dump

Born in garbage dump
And one day my childhood
Will breathe its last
In the garbage dump.

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
Me

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