The cold and long nights couldn't get any less brutal,
Impact of the hard pavement with the ill-covered skin grew unbearable.
Sunny and rainy days were both worse.
He's only 10 and his health is critically impaired
Arrogated by the pitiless streets-
The only close associate that cared.

However innocent, the world was too aggressive,
Precisely without a place to live.
There were no more tears in his fatigued eyes,
In the garbage is where the next meal lies.
As he grows, he learns,
The only family around is the ungrateful urchins.

At 18 he's free,
His open eyes could now see,
In the aftereffect of growth,
There's more than new cloth.
The notion in his mind was clear,
Substance abuse was the closest cure.

He's innocent-
Something changed him, or at least someone did,
And if the peaceful home is the street,
Why would he end up with a bullet in his head?