Little boy, lift your chin up off the dirt.
Wipe the blood off with your shirt
You'll keep falling cause the world is taking toll.
Just relax your trembling chin.
You had to know you'd never win.
You'll soon be swallowed by the blackest hole.
Drop your best, it's not enough.
Your daddy's words, 'Son life is rough.'
Your needs will rearrange but you will never know.
What you've got will soon be gone
Then redefine, your rights were wrong.
There's no knowing where you'll go.
It's a magic act and your the show.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.