Street Corner Thoughts Poem by Pious Nyomiro

Sometimes I feel this is it. "What say me? "
A life stuck in mud I can't wash clean.
The dirt that is so stained, can't let go of me. And yet
I try very hard, harder than the very known.
But the outcome that has become of me.
Make me sick not with a blessing but sticks.
I ask myself "why are other people so lucky? "
The question I want others to answer my life.
That has been crowned, untitled with thorns.
One day I hope to be picked from the dirt.
Washed and shine like a diamond much sought after.
Confess, my mouth confess before you testify.
It is the leap of faith, of course.