Born stars but little can they shine their wishes and hopes taken from them like honey from a beehive.
Born to be a blessing but now they are in search of blessings.
They are swept away like dusty palaces for Kings and Queens but they are enslaved to thmselves.
They no nothing about crowns and castles, all they know are caves and chains, for the caves cover their shining star light and the chains bound them to a life of one day living a dream without them living a drean
Little hearts that have known no love.
Set apart to the gutters.
Eyes blinded by hunger and pain.
Yearning in ever beating hearts, for a day to be like the children in cars that flash by and leave nothing but mud on their skins.
Out in the cold winter night, blistering cold, hungry and numb. Watching through windows at the happy family within.
Alone and forlorn, on a lifeless street.
Left to the mosquitoes, they don't feel the stings anymore.
Burning to the touch from a fever within.
The aroma of a meal never to be tatsed, drifting to torment their hungry bodies.
The nonchalance and brutality of the affluenced.
Children of the world. Scattered in continents.
Different races, cultures, heritage, but with one thing in common, homeless.
Their minds are drifted to a knowledge of relying. They live their twenty-four hours like the world doesn't have the time and space for them.
They didn't wish for a life such as that but the shark eats fish without thinking they are the same.
They are consumed by low epistemology of being disparate. They breathe the same air like any one else but their lifestyle becomes windy, blowing every opportunity.
And they are living in a world that rotates faster and has nothing to offer.
The irony is we hope the riches of the world help this poor stars that don't feel above the cloud but feel storms and fight battles with themselves.
Life would never be Great for them if we don't fight like Alexander.
