A prayer of a lost child

I come to you
’Cause I don’t know what to do
My mama left me a nana
Left, when ”dada”
Was the only word
In my vocab
They left me with nothing
I am indeed a poor thing

I have no hope for the future
’Cause I’m like in the desert a vulture
The oldest sibling is careless with our lifeline
The older has forgotten us with time
The youngest thinks that everything is fine
My maternal relatives are trying
But I’m in a pan of sorrows frying
And feel like dying
I am indeed a poor thing

You were suggested by my girlfriend
Who was concerned as a friend
I said I’d never come before you
Knowing that anything for her I’d do
So now that I’m here
Help me here and there
Help me regain my strength
And hold on to my breath
Help me see a tomorrow of my life
Help me see the goodness of a knife
Help me taste of life, the cream
And realise my dream
My friend’s lord
If you could
Please do,
Help me

Coming before you
Has made me lose my pride
And may have brought me and my bride
And coming before you
Has made me a great loser
In this world
So please my friend’s lord
Take away from my neck, the rope
And bring to me hope
Give me the power to be a winner
Not a goner
Take away from me the Poor’s blanket
Give me the ability to sing like a cricket
To sing in fortunes
After clearing in my way the misfortunes
My friend’s lord, give me a ticket
To the reacher’s blanket
A ticket to wealth
And good health
Give me power
Give me knowledge
It’s all I’m asking for

Welliam Shezispeare

I put words together in a manner that will capture you, the reader.

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