Cots, Dots And Thoughts Of A Streetkid Poem by John Sensele

You call me street kid
For your alms and crumbs I plead
You treat me like a weed or a sinful seed

God sees my suffering
He delivers me from your slavery string
As he shakes his head on your ruby ring

While my stomach groans
My whole body moans
While you enjoy ringtones from smart phones

I sleep on the floor rough
To survive I grow tough
In dustbins I rummage although at my blues I laugh

The world and society forget me
My plight they choose not to see
In the gutter I pee without any glee

This is my fate
A bid brain in my pate
Scorn aplenty I get

One day God will give me a chance
You'll grow old and feeble and for joy I'll dance
As you beg on bended knees for my help, away I'll advance

To salvation
In God's standing ovation
To enjoy and employ my engineering innovation

Meanwhile, Merry Xmas fat cat
Savour your wit on your Moroccan mat
As your belly and neck sneer at me and scare a benevolent bat.