​They call a ☆ star, everything that shines, aren’t there things shinning bad-like? Like scar. If there are, what do we call them………. …………..?

Sitting beside the mirror, I was looking out of the window, the  beauty of the city caught my attention. It was full of “Sign”, the view was perfect at the angle where I sat without bloopers attached to it. I owe my adoration to Him above for giving me the sight to see the beauty of the city.

Across the street by the road was a restaurant, seated round the table at the corner of the room was a family of seven. The mother, the father, three girls and two boys. On the table laid all kinds of food, drink and fruits, they all looked happy being together like it was their last meal.

Pitiful is the life of the poor, all he needed was food. He was at the other side of the street with a begging hand stretched out, in it contains a small bowl.

Systematically protruding like a dummy, rough and full of dirt. His look irritated some, while his touch blessed some with dents. Thinking he was too small for the situation he was in: Then he saw a brother with his sister

A brother with his sister roaming about without a baby sitter, one looks “Seven” and the other “Ten”. Their bodies unkept also not leaving out the clothes on them that looks torn and tattered. Their look is the definition of poverty. Don’t cry:?:?!!!!!!there’s no use for sympathy.

Like the saying goes “Givers never lack” But now givers too are lamenting. Come to think of it, a penny for the poor would do. Give a penny to the beggar and see how his life becomes doddle.

Today you may be blessed with bread and butter but become poor tomorrow, thread like prisoners. What goes around comes around. Lend a helping hand no matter who you are or how little you have.

My diction is bad if words were to describe, remember! whatever the case maybe, the poor today, tomorrow could control the bee. 

My ink is flanking of thoughts to inscribe but I gotta stop. Help the poor.                 

     ©Ibraheem {Broken ✑ Pen}

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