Seven days ago I woke up in the arms of a beautiful woman.
Who pushed me away and cried for so long.
Who shouted at my tiny face how much she despised me.
But why me, I was just born and didnít know my own mistake?
Six days ago I was in an orphanage waiting for someone.
Someone to take me home and make me part of their family.
Because I saw in books that families never leave you.
But no one ever came for me at all, why not?
Five days ago I was kicked out of an orphanage and to the streets.
The nights get cold and there isnít a warm bed to sleep on.
I was mistaken for a run away teen and beaten blue.
I cry myself to sleep on the cold floor, why me?
Four days ago, I was arrested for taking an apple.
I spend cold nights peeking in at windows to wish I was in there.
I heard that the inside of a house is always warm.
So why do I sleep on the streets?
Three days ago, I was in a hospital.
I was beaten by a group of men who tried to rob me.
Of the property that I didnít own or let alone have.
And again was forced to return to my cold bed, why?
Two days ago, I turned 17 and I had nothing to celebrate.
I was alone and realized how much Iím not wanted.
My hands hurt with frost bite, Iím hungry.
Why was I pushed away?
A day ago I was hit by a car and died.
With no one around to tell me who I was.
Or to hold me as I took my last breathes.
No one to even say I love you or engrave a name on my tomb.