An Innocent Query


Hey dear mother, 

The clothes hanging up high, 

Seem to be enjoying more than us. 

Don’t they look free and relaxed, 

Whereas, we are struggling. 

Struggling to find a roof over our head, 

Call a piece of land as our own

Or even claim that we belong to a country. 

Oh my dear mother, 

Do thee have an answer for these? 

Why can’t we be like those clothes? 

Just free and enjoy our life?

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