Poems on

Child Laborer

a poem by Christuraj Alex

I was pulled out of the school; doomed into hard labor,
To my home, at budding age, I became a life-saver!

When kids of my age, with stylish satchels, proceed to school,
I, in cracker-workshops noxious, chemicals heat and cool!

With my tender hands, I shape cute beautiful fire-works,
When I see, you crack them, my wish to do so, within sparks!

The fumes and toxins I breath, I know, are deadly harmful,
I cannot just shun them, as life toward me is scornful!

I am squeezed in often, into damp, cramped throttling spaces,
Where, doctors say, children catch incurable diseases!

My fingers and hands get blisters; they often itch and bleed,
I cry loud within often, who could, my soundless noise, heed?

When I, owing extreme aches, from mounting duties relax,
Manhandling me, my master, like a galled gory goose, quacks!

Rules and laws, they say, made for our benefits, are, many,
They remain in books, and for us, never earn a penny!

I have just one request, to you, dear friend, who’s of my age,
When you meet one shabby like me, do not flare-up in rage!