Yawning, rubbing these brown eyes till there are no more tears, they say I’m supposed to be a man but I barely have hair, “stay here, sell…”, learned to open a palm before I could crawl, struggled to stay awake, been up since dawn, lined these shoots nicely and pray that someone will pass by with a pocket full of money to buy three, if they wonder why a child like me is out here, just fake a smile and say to make my family happy, but I’m crying inside when they don’t buy any, ‘cause they don’t know how long I’ve been hungry, I’ve grown tired
Eyes closed, shutting off the world that surrounds me, day dreaming with no meaning, call me a child but I have done so much living, these palms are aged beyond my years, life line hasn’t pass seven, sole stained with miles, walked along a beaten path, seen some sisters seeking strangers, suddenly grandpas becomes brother-in-laws and I’m just trying to make a cent, while they’re giving it away like common sense, to getaway and lay on this pavement
Arms are weary, not grown but I wondered if I cried would they hear me, young but not so restless as this dirt caress me, let my mind sank in cemented pillows, dirt stained toes alongside this road selling my bamboo soul, could I still dream of peaceful tomorrows instead of it being filled with heartache and sorrow, just a boy trying shoot for the front row but got caught in his own thoughts, off my guard but did you wanna buy any, Mommy off doing her workload as I’m just doing what I’ve been told, make a dollar…
