It's hard enough,
Through the rough world that has zero mercy,
Listen to a story,
One of a young mistress,
No familial to call her own,
No one to take care of her,
The streets know her by name,
They belong to her,
And she belongs to them,
Every day she rips off her sorrow,
Through painful tears,
Tears that share a hint of hope,
That maybe someday,
A soul of her own blood will come to take her home,
To a beautiful place that her fantasies refuse to reveal.
To her,
Life is like a game of hopscotch,
You have to keep in pushing,
Even if the marble doesn't fall in the right place,
Someday it will,
As long as one doesn't lose hope.
Her secret is to keep on pushing,
No matter how hard it may seem for her,
What matters is that she still has hope,
For a better tomorrow,
A tomorrow that might fill her with new hope,
And who knows,
Luck might be on her side,
And she might end up getting that one soul,
Who belongs with her.
N.M
