So alone and cold
No one to take care of me
I have no home,
but the street is my home
Each morning I rise,
and the temptation will follow me
Questions will appear
out of nowhere
Must I go to the traffic lights
and beg
Or must I take my knife
and commit a small crime?
Each night I wonder
what I'll eat in the morning
Where will I sleep?
Will I wake up?
Are the police going to find me
and arrest me?
Or will I stay the same street kid that I am
with no hope of a proper life?
-Elethu Nkala
