If I Was Born On The Street
If I am a street child.
Weeding through my depths last night.
A million though came bubbering through my mind.
If I was born on the street.
My share of rainbow will be in the dump.
My summer soltice will be in the waste.
If I fall sick, I must shiver all alone.
When other children run to school,
I will be yawning for food.
Now you see my reason to cry.
There will never be a happy day,
If I was born on the street.
If Santa reach me,
He will pass me by.
When I try to stop him,
He will chase me with stick.
You can now see my reason to wail.
There will never be a sunny day,
If I was born on the street.
When I am hungry, I am alone.
I must wipe my tears when I cry.
Stars are sorrowful when you watch from the dump.
How bright is moon light,
When you gaze from the orphanage.
You now see why I had to lay down my sleep.
There will always be unhappy day,
If I was a street child.
If I was born on the street,
My share of winter will be frost.
Like happy bears,
I must wonder Deep in the frost.
If I reach for you for clothes,
You will drive me away.
If I ask you for bread,
You will ask me to die.
You now see why I must sweep the moon away.
So that all of us will stay in darkness.
For there will never be a day,
If I was born on the street.
Love becomes love,
Only when she's given away.
Ezekiel Onoja Udedojo.
Ezekiel Onoja
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 04/18/2020
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