kids were seating at the back side of the jeepney
dirty feet hanging,
snot running down their noses,
grease all over their bodies,
then the man beside me says,
“these kids will be thieves one day.”
and i look at these
little mud-eyed ones
filled with silent anger
if this is how we cast them
how could they change something that was already
molded in stone for them?
we are responsible for the next generation
we rob these children
to create their own identity
and blame them for things
should’ve done something about.
You may also submit your poems, short stories, essays, features, and reviews to Ibalio Stories via email at firstname.lastname@example.org, or via Twitter at @ibaliostories. You may also follow us on Facebook or on Instagram.
Show us some love and retweet this: