While your kitchens
Ooze fried chickens
And groceries
Are tall storeys
This Yuletide
I am that child
Compelled to cope
Having no hope
For baked salads
On Christmas day.
While your wardrobes
Are filled with clothes
As you complain
Of colours plain
And type of shoes
To match new gowns
This Yuletide
I am that child
That have nothing
But sad outing.
E si!
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Sad but true… so touching poetry!
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While we celebrate let us remember the less privilege
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This is touching…
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Yea… While we celebrate let us remember the less privilege
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