Wandering alone in the jungle of life
carrying my cross alone with nobody to care,
This is not who I am,
but who I am made to be.
Home is for cuddling,
Street is for hustling,
A street child I was made to be,
lose cuddling but found suffering.
Being left alone in this unknown entity brings nothing but tsunami to my destiny.
The promise I made to myself remains my only hope,
I lost a home,
but I will surely build my own,
A home where there is surety of safety,
where I will strongly fight against my calamities,
For my offsprings must not have a taste of my Sufferings.