striking, florid flowers are clinch of life, <br />of which all the beauties of life arise, <br />flowers need appropriate care, <br />but when the nourishment lacks, <br />and nector of flower dies, <br />fade far away the freshness of life. <br /> <br />folks call children as flowers, <br />who are meant to be fresh as flowers, <br />nourish in the shades of, <br />festidious love and lots of cares, <br />but what if the nourishment lacks, <br />fade far away the glories of life. <br /> <br />living in slums and filthy dives, <br />turning into balck, pale, yellow bright, <br />as some one has stolen their nector, <br />or squized them to take out all their juice, <br />slavish, stagnant and garish looks, <br />shackels and shudders their beautiful hearts, <br />shivering hands and bare feets, <br />tatterd cloths and dirty limbs, <br />husky voice and trembling lips, <br />pale deep eyes having trivial dreams, <br />asks for lots of love and lots of care. <br /> <br />these stagnant, slavish looks are heartless humans, <br />moving and acting like robots, <br />waiting for the sermon of death to appear. <br /> <br />the best thing about them is, <br />no one has to go to any specific place, <br />to have a glance at these demolished pieces, <br />not of any machinary nor of any garbage, <br />these are humans, these are called humans. <br /> <br />mostly found everywhere, <br />at the corner of any street, <br />at the middle of any road, <br />asking for help and for care, <br />which they do not find anywhere. <br /> <br />my heart aches and breaks down, <br />when i call them, <br />these are humans, these are called humans. <br /> <br />lets come up and unit togather, <br />to evolve humans out of these machines, <br />and make them the dazzling flowers, <br />who flourish only and fade not, <br />who will feel proud and tell others, <br />we are humans, we are called humans.<br /><br />tayyeba mustafa<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/we-are-humans-we-are-called-humans/
