Born to a prostitute,
He was her worst nightmare.
He had rendered out of shape,
and thus out of business.
He was thrown onto the streets to look for work
When other kids happily went to school.
Soon his repertoire boasted of a variety of jobs…
Working, begging, stealing- he’d done it all.
The dark, filthy streets were his home,
Where he was abused and bullied
by those who were his brothers in fate.
He was a prisoner of his childhood.
Sleep was his escape,
Where he was a king of a distant land.
The sun shone on his face,
Jolting him back to him to his grim reality.
He dreamt of escaping this labyrinth of pain and suffering.
But what did the future hold for him?
Perhaps his story would have a happy end
And he would be a lotus in a dirty pond,
A diamond mined from a coal mine,
A messiah to others like him.
Or perhaps he was never meant to know any happiness,
And he would become a thief, a dacoit, a gangster,
Like a maggot, which is born on the rotting,
Lives and feeds on it, only to die there.