Is Garbage Dump My Childhood?

Is Garbage Dump My Childhood? I know not Who is my father When I was only eight years old Mother's love also left me alone Still I remember Inconsolable face of mother I rise early in the morning To glean the roadside garbage That's my routine And my childhood I've never seen the school What is a book I do not know But what is garbage How is the smell of the litter I know everything I am very punctual And never late in my profession To collect garbage on roadside That is my little childhood What are the dreams No one has ever told me How the dreams look like Would my dreams ever come true When I will also with bag Go to the school smilingly I wish all this were true, But not because Childhood waits for me daily In the garbage dump Born in garbage dump And one day my childhood Will breathe its last In the garbage dump.