A dying child in Thar

When the night prevails
in the land of hunger and sand
a yearning infant  wails
milk is a luxury to his folks
they could use rain in a pail
Some miles away in mansion of gold
A child only cries when his doll dies
the sand of his fate he himself mold
hunger and agony never touched his eyes
His dogs consume more than an entire town
Yet his face ever adorned with a frown
looking back to the child of sand, I wonder
In a world where men dine for prices that could save lives
Not a single man, nor child should die of hunger

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