Look at me, what do you see? Anger, Agony, Pain or Devastation? My face seems unappealing, due to the hate and frustration .
You think it’s easy? This world ain’t so pleasing. Though the roads are tarred, we are still barred. Unable to breathe, Just thriving through these dark scenes.
Rich or Poor? I honestly don’t care anymore. My face speaks to tell my story and my actions verbalize my pain. Still, I wish this wasn’t my reality. Everyday we hustle, thriving upon the agonizing bustle.
What type of life is this? When you have to depend on the passersby, for your fortune and daily bread. Whether it rains or hails, Whether the sun shines or burns, The streets remain our only means of survival, so we have to keep up the grind.