Speak not of tomorrow, for there's no sign of hope

I dwell in the streets, no place to call home
I'm trapped in catacombs, where my future has been thrown.

I come to you for food, is that too much to ask for?

You gave me not an education, and envisage the sun to glare?

I ask of my father, why have you hurled me out of the door?

And of my unknown mother, was the torment of birth worth it to bear?

On the days when I'm sick, the crows of roosters bring me peace

I stare into unknowns and think of the might have beens

On the days my mind wanders, a song fills my soul

Of pain and dusty gales, the perils of loneliness cast a hole.

My loathe filled blood, continues to rise like bile

And a smog of darkness enshrouds my thoughts

A child of no one, a heritor of cold winds
I was moulded by none, now I fight for my all

Though the present burns, shall the future glow?

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