“Hey, it’s life, you aren’t going to hide”
It matters mom, I have too much pain in my heart and soul
“Son, life isn’t for sissies, it’s going to be alright”
How can it be alright mom, if I could see my grave now I would be happy.
“Son, I mean, do you consider animals with no home,
How dare you blame God for existence?”
Mom, I don’t know what you talk about, I’m not existing.
“You, Son, too much blood in streets,
Too many people without shelters,
Too many reckless murders,
Too many lives in prison for nothing,
At least you live for something:
Your goals, son”
What do you mean mom,
I am lame in work, I own no name,
I’m not even independent,
I ask for every cent,
Without giving you any percent of what you give me.
“You are getting somewhere, son,
Do you really need a percent to get cent?
I’m not with that saying, you need yourself to get percent,
To give the cent and surely you will survive”…