Whose fault is it?
I'm born black,
Among black minded beings,
Whose delight dwells in dark hour of day.
When I was journeying to earth,
The white winged being told me—
I'm lucky to be an envoy sent to earth
At this period of tribulation.
Where things has fallen apart
like a dilapidated ancient pyramid,
Where there is no easy walk to freedom,
All things on earth are not as free as oxygen.
On the day I was born,
My expectations are like
a castle built on air,
I was born in a fordable home,
Where breakfast serves as three square meal.
Years after I was born,
Tragic befall our miserable home.
The gods must be brainsick,
Why am I born in a poor house
And my parents left me to live in heaven?
I was left to wear rags,
Sew new by my mom,
On my fifth birthday,
And I matched it with
A pair of oversized browny
lustrous shoe —
Which is my sire's favorite.
I feed on remnant that is
Left at bus station,
I'm six years old now,
My aim in life is to
survive with the odd
Job I'm engaged in,
My tongue calls it
"Alabaru".
How I wish I declined coming earth.
I'm on earth like a dead being,
Walking around like a dog,
No fresh meal save remnant,
My head is buried in my hand,
Seeking for the answer.
Whose fault is it?
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