my pristine innocence, my crime.

over the years i came to learn the art,
i perfected that which seemed impossible,
when all my family thought i was doomed and ran,
i learnt the art, that unenviable task,
of crawling on my limbs, seeking for alms.

when the skies open, or the sunshine bites,
i scurry the pavements, my money cup in tow.
no one seems conscious of my presence,
or even the pristine innocence across splashed all over my face.
my begging teary eyes, that is all i got.

i come across hordes of humanity,
some pitiful of my disabled plight, others hasten by in oblivion.
most dispose of coins on me, while others in humanity donate.
where i sleep, not an iota of a soul knows,
how i wake up, well, i wish you just bothered to query.

but that is my life, my sad condemned life.
i'm a staunch believer, my faith up.but why God?
which could be as grave as to render me almost obsolete?
paralyzed right in my mothers untouched womb.
is it my color?or perhaps my tribe?then pardon me.

i know i won't.that im sure. almost a certainty,
share in the joys of childhood, or mischief of adolescence,
that is long gone, and my future even misted.
but i keep the hope, my bubble will never burst.
and may the rains wash away all these painful memories.

now let me crawl along.let me beg with my cup.
for that is my life.