#migrants #pain
My dreams have the right to know
why for centuries they have been breaking
Why don't they ever come true

My hands have the write to know
Why do they remain without work all along
Why do they have nothing to do

My feet have the right to know
Why from village to village they walk on their own
Why are there no signs of a bus yet

My hunger has the night to know
Why grains rots is godowns
While I don't even get a fistful of rice

My old mother has the right to know
Why are there no medicine
Needles, dispensaries or bandages

My children have the right to know
Why do they labour day and night
Why is there no school in sight.

My vote has the right to know
Why one day we hear big promises
And for five years, no work

My life has a right to know
If it is worty of living without promises
Is it even equivalent to living...