Are they destined to be?

When I wrote this, basically everyone I showed it to were like “Beautiful piece, but who are you referring to?” πŸ™ˆπŸ™ˆ
So by way of an explanatory memoranda (ion even know what that means, but it sounds photosynthesis so imma just leave it like that) and in answer to the above question… This, this is for the little kids out there in the streets drowning but still reaching for hope, drowning but still trying to survive. Oftentimes we turn up our noses and scoff at them from our high horses, but its high time we look inwards and realise that just a teeny weeny little bit of kindness from the abundance we have received would go a long way in brightening their day. Enjoy.


Look out and you’ll see
an army of the poverty stricken
with no roof above their heads.
In hunger they moan,
dry and fagged out they lie…
Oppressed by their fate,
they fly forgotten as a dream.

Living carelessly in flagrant abandon,
existing only in a state of continuum
in their head is a jumbled cacophony of voices
like cymbals, clashing without a rhythm.

Roaming the streets in tattered clothing,
their skins barely covering
at their wits end in pieces living,
they’re utterly unable to question their fate
for even the reprieve that they felt
was not worth what it cost.

For them maybe
a dim light will flicker
at the end of the tunnel.
It may be too weak to be hope
but with a little love from man
surely they’ll survive
until their creator calls.


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