As I stand here, I look into my hands and fingers
And think of the mind in me
As I walk down the subway, stretching my reflexes and tiny toes,
Something pops up in my mind
That feeling of great self-belief and trust,
No!! It’s not being cocky
But a strong sense of responsibility

I owe this life of mine not to my mother
Or my sister, no!!!
But I owe to the world
I owe this poetry to the world
Not just to entertain, but to liberate as well
Not just to read
But to learn as well
I owe my talent to those who can’t speak for themselves,
To those who can’t write on their own,

I pour my heart out to the world
So a few can look down the streets and believe
Just so you can look at the black-board and see hope in bold letters
I owe it to the world
This voice of mine and the mind in me
This pen and paper I scramble everyday
This ink I squeeze and squeeze
I owe it to the innocent world

Those tiny things down the street block, up the high way
They make us who we are,
They are our heroes, just as we are the heroes they wish to be,
I owe it to the world to cry and cry all night
I can put up a few words together and still cry out loud
Because I finally realised that I owe it to the world just to play my part
Just as the world has done in feeding the mind I have
I owe it to the world just as you do