Bright faces coddle in dark designs
They are in their pre-state
Coals migrate from the diamond mines
Too delicate to stand pressure and heat
Of their unbearable abodes
And unexhausted work of slimy peat
Some skillful hands bring them
In the mind-set factories
To trim and shape in the form of a gem
Fake colour fake shape do they gain
For the sake of mortal yield
Aim begins at home goal ends in pain
In the smoky air black cloud appears
With reddish firry sparks
Black hands black faces and black tears
Around the bloody stove shed all our dears
Submitted By: Anjum Aziz Abbas