Here I am with rhetorical questions racing in me every day,
It’s festive now, everyone is out to see their mothers and fathers,
What about me, Lord?
They are out there jollying everywhere with words of praises,
But who’s praising me now?
Who is comforting me when ice age revisits the life of me?
That last time I saw Mommy,
I was a toddler, so was Father in my ages of embryo,
I never felt the presence of my old man,
I’m being told stories he was like I am,
But wearing such belief is poking Eminem.
I’m out searching for hope here and there,
But it’s never enough,
Happiness is my enemy.
At worst I’m being given names,
With fingers poking me to the center of hatred.
Why didn’t you give them such chance to see me flourishing?
It is useless I’m telling you, to have all these
Wonderful materialistic things but Momma isn’t here
To approve these that I accomplished.
I’m here fed up all day with tears rolling in my eyes
And there isn’t a soul to comfort me,
Oh dear Death, you are heartless.