Story of Street Children
Baba! Why have you left me in these streets?
It’s so lonely, dark and wild
Come and take me away for I am not a fugitive child
Many pass by but no one cares about me
I wish you were around to make them leave
Days are hot but nights are cold
Nothing to wear except a torn rug
I am tired of this life and broken from the root
They call me a street child and police hit me with their boot
Come and please take me from here.
Hummer was my car
Loaded was my bank account
Everything was there
A billionaire could take;
Branded were my clothes
Imported were my shoes
Silver was my spoon
But all turned out to be midnight blues
All were like heaven till I opened the door
I was born rich but I chose to be poor.
Brabim is an author
Historic heart of Los Angeles on life support from COVID-19
