Little Beggar

As I stood by the road
munching on the snacks
I felt a tug on my arm
by a little child in rags

I determined to ignore it
and decided to look away
but avoid could not the pleading
as its constant gaze upon me lay

In me arose a surge of pity
as I turned to my friend
to elicit a kind word or such
in light of this dreadful trend

He didn’t seem too bothered
or just couldn’t care less
I wondered at his aloofness
with the society in this frightful mess

I rebuked him for his indifference
and he looked at me horrified
taken aback by the expression he cast
I inquired what his reaction implied

“My dear friend, I am sorry to say
that you don’t seem to have an idea
this social mess that you declare
is indeed part of a begging mafia”

“Professional beggars, babies on rent,
locations, commissions and promotion
drugs, exploitation and amputation
just to stir a rich man’s emotion”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t care
even if the child continues to stare
‘coz I would not in hell even
my money with a mafia share”

It was my turn to be horrified
but I could not help but wonder
by driving away one person in real need
would we not be making a blunder?

I turned to the begging child
its beseeching eyes moist and cold
my thoughts seeking to discover
horrid secrets that they might hold