God's unwanted child


They rumble through the streets with stagnated walls.
Raindrops are their guilty pleasure and happiness in increments of sunlight.
Fingers like pebbles, bruised eye-sockets and legs invisible, they wail with empty cans.
They rush with moving trains, colour-coordinate with footpaths, lay in over bridges.
Where sky is the roof, soil is the floor and wind their walls.
Their palms open skywards in solemn summons on a broken wheelchair.
In the name of God, at least we have a penny to spare.

- Ingenious chaos