• i_am_somina 49w

    The boyhood of a poor kid

    Poor kid born of a careless mother
    Abandoned in a part of the world he never deserved
    Handed to a dump for the rats to chew on his toes and feast on his immature phallus
    Left to the bugs and the worms to swim in and out his tender skin and soft eyes...
    As he dissolves from skin to gut to bone into the vast land of waste and poison
    The fragile part of his life.
    But he survives the hellish situation.
    He's been damned. Both by his mother and his righteous dirt-poor saviors. 

    Poor kid. a stain in the streets of a silvery white city
    His clothes are the rags and his home is the park or the street or under a shade
    He's a mediocre nomad.
    Freed from the chains of the  thoughts of his uncommitted mother... but a slave none the less
    A slave to rigid poverty
    He's pushed to beg and pick up abandoned mud infested halfbread
    But he doesn't have much luck... 
    He's not as smart as the other slum kids. 
    Therefore some nights, the hunger creeps in his belly like ants on a sugar cube... 
    And chews upwards like termites to his brain to deliver mind shattering migraines. and this goes on for several nights
    He thinks to steal but he dares not.because he fears getting caught
    So he begs... but he's turned down, spat on,  insulted
    He never asked to be born, never asked to be saved. 
    But no shit is given about his trivial opinion. 

    Poor kid.  Destroyed and broken on so many levels.
    He wouldn't beg anymore... he would take. 
    He doesn't know a thing about what he's about to do. no father or mother to tell him. 
    All he's been taught is what his eyes show him. 
    The slow torturing death of hunger on his fellow scum
    Screaming of women harassed in dark corners
    Gun fights and standoffs, murders and suicides, illnesses and little Joy.
    No hint of love.. cus theres only room for survival.

    Poor kid.  He's all grown now
    Strapped and fearless... with scars and tattoos
    He's a monster...he's a bandit
    He's taken their fathers, mothers, kids
    He's taken their food their money, resources
    He never asked to be the beast.
    But no shit is given about his trivial opinion

    Poor kid... born of a careless mother
    Abandoned in a part of the world he never deserved 
    He's cold and oozing crimson tears
    From the lead punctured flesh
    His game has finally caught up with him
    He's damned by his mother, his saviors,  and the wicked place he called home
    The final end of his tortured life