Street Child

From the first grey wakening
The meals are a mystery
When the scorch heats
My cheeks get rough and burn
I understand it all
I don't go to learn
Even my name is my hope to write
Unlike other kids,
I don't play games
I got no time
I have no address
I must always run from street to another
My feet have cracks
Alone we are left in dark corners of the city buildings.
The heavy rains bring harsh cold nights
I got no mother by my side
I spread my boxes and raggy like sheets on the muddy ground
And for a nap,
I hardly get any because of the noise footsteps of heels of the passersby and the cars.
Till the next grey wakening
But then, life continues.