The Plight of Mama Mboga

Twelve eyes looking up to me,
Those are six stomachs to feed,
Their father left us and he is nowhere to be seen,
All along alone in this mud house,
In the same room where the only barrier from the kids are sheets,
All night long my little angel loudly she cries,
I give her a sweet to buy time before she fall asleep,
Drained by the hot sun during the day and left with no milk in my breasts,
Relay on the free education for my other five kids,
The little I get we eat and buy some few clothes,
My day starts early in the morning,
Tired and hungry it ends late in the evening,
Neither radio to listen nor television for watching,
Surrounding the lamp I get my children waiting,
Their faces lighten up when I give them the little I gathered,
I work harder every day to maximize on the little profit I get,
Never give up even when things are at their worst,
I believe and pray to the Almighty for good health and blessings,
For all my children to have a different better lifestyle.

The poem was an inspiration from the struggles that the ghetto people in Africa go through. Help where and when you can.