My friends are citizens overlooked, but they stand by my side.
My work is small and old, but clean.
My life is treasured, but not by me.
My mother old tells me this, she says I have potential hard to miss.
I wish I could believe, I wish I could be strong.
But my stench of sin, overwhelms itís doer.
I have done wrong, but asked to be cleansed.
My friends are those who have been passed on, even their family sees them dead.
But I see, in that pit of darkness.
A small blinking light, a failing light of hope.
There it lies, there I see it on the brink.
And there I lay my bundle of hopes with it.
There I see the light shine brighter, and there I see another born.
A hope born of hopes, but then roughly pushed aside for more black.
Feed me, says the hatred born from hard rejection.
Then and there it is so strong, I feel my happiness die and fade.
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