My Poverty.

We are a poor country
And we like to hide it

We are poor people.
People who protect our women from ourselves.
We are poor mothers
Mothers who feed only our own, not other's

Poor brothers and poor sisters
Walking out, away, in times of need.
Poor fathers. Poor men
Trying their best to accumulate wealth.

And we are a country of dreamers
We like to fake it, even if to ourselves.
We dream of palaces and grandeur
While our neighbors live on the streets, homeless.

We buy our children a shopping mall,
Stacked with sunglasses, shoes, bags, accessories and what not.
Yet on our streets, every night, a child shivers to death
Prays for a blanket, a glass of clean water and bread.

But why do we care? We earned these comforts.  With our birth.
WE are the real India. Look within. You'll find a poorer soul.