I slipped from the Manor's upstairs into the trash bin. <br />My hair burnt, eyes removed and they amputated my hands. <br />I stuck in the leftovers, among the stench I cannot see anything <br />And I write on a broken slate with a piece of chalk which gripped by my right foot's fingers. <br />Darkness is better than a true vision. <br />And I think of the new doll who sings well in the upstairs. <br />I humbly pray for her a long-life in the Mansion. <br /> <br />*[ Australian Man throws the daughter off bridge. A morning News.] <br /> <br />I dedicate this poem to innocent street children where they sleep under the same transparent sky.<br /><br />nimal dunuhinga<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-discard-doll/
