In the hands of the poor poem by:- Dia Manchanda 7D

In the hands of the poor

There is no money or jewel.

In the hands of the poor,

There is no shelter or food.

Their lives are cold, brutal and cruel,

With only love as their fuel.

Yet they try

To go on and on

With a determined strike

To win back their rights.

They’re a part of the world,

Just like you and me.

They’re not a ‘burden,

’Just people in need.

In the hands of the poor,

There also lies hopes and dreams.

Dia Manchanda 7D