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I write with drops of my own tears
ever slowing like the reservoir
plumbed around me
scalding and freezing at once.
My childhood was a different story
a tale of experiences
vale of a child suffering
cemented in my DNA.
you see,
I strived through the iron of adolescent
dropped out of college and went to the street
wrestled with destiny but came out empty
watched prosperity lingered in distance.
I really tried to survive
then I realized that my success has punctured.
fate mocked at me
my whole life was a caricature.
It's hard to stay alive
as for the dead, I can't tell their own stories.
As a boy, I stole the heart of a man
almost callous but has a conscience.
Blessings are stories of others that I hear
every day was a torture
sleep abandoned me in the womb
and hunger has written a rhythm with my ribs.
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I'm that Child you never want to see
my pictures haunt people and cause nightmares.
I had no voice
and when I walk flies hide from me.
I tried taking my own life
I murmured and prayed for death.
all I got was pains
Such a wicked world.
I am still crawling even at 50
imprisoned by destiny.
Discarded by the lucky ones
forgotten by society.
I will be lost when I die, I know
my name, No one will bear
perhaps universe might reject me too
as the world was silent when I came
And deaf when my curtain will draw.
