The woman at the traffic light
Oblivious of her child's plight;
Empties her lungs into a balloon
That she will sell for two rupees.
Sooner or later she will run out of air
Sooner than later no-one will care;
And she will lie there surrounded by balloons
As lifeless and deflated as she is.
The little girl in the mid-day heat
Does handstands to the sound of a drumbeat;
Her innocence seems to keep the despair away
As she bravely chases a dream.
Her skills belie her tender age
She believes the whole world's a stage;
But soon there will be no-one to watch
And she will know that things aren't as they seem.