A poem about street kids.
𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒛𝒆𝒓𝒐-𝒛𝒆𝒓𝒐-𝒛𝒆𝒓𝒐
𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒅;
𝑵𝒐 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒇𝒊𝒔𝒉, 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒂-𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒅
𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒂𝒓𝒅
𝒅𝒐𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒚 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒉
𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒅𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒐𝒏,
𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒂 𝒚𝒂𝒓𝒅-𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒑 𝒓𝒖𝒃𝒃𝒊𝒔𝒉.
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒆 𝒃𝒆,
𝑵𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆,
𝑺𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆
𝒈𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍.
𝑷𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒑,
𝒏𝒐 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒚
𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒏𝒂𝒉 𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒚.
𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈:
𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒚,
𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕
𝒘𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒎 𝒈𝒐 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒚;
𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒎 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒂 "𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒇!𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒇!"
𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒊 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒚,
𝒏𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒚𝒓𝒆
𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒌:
𝑻𝒐𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒋𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆
𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒚 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒆
𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆.
𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒍
𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔
𝒄𝒐𝒔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠
𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒑 𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔.
𝑺𝒐, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒑 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒅.
𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕
𝒅𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒎.
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