Water simmers on the stove <br />Grater is turning to pieces, a dry clove <br />Eyes shimmer with vapour at the door <br />Outside, enjoying with smells, a beggar <br />Inside intestine is being cut with dagger <br /> <br />Life is such a mirage with darkest craze <br />They are fit, meadow green they graze<br /><br />Aftab Alam<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poverty-78/
