They live in grand abandoned buildings, these are the ancestors of poor children. Chased away, in some cases killed and beaten by the rich folk and their paid for freedom keepers. 

 

Hunted we are like rats or foxes made to hide behind thinly veiled boxes holding breath as to not breathe the gases so noxious. 

 

I find myself living within this damp and cluttered house of sin, protected only by the guards of this oasis mirage.

 

The dark purple, velour heavy curtains made it hard to move through the pediments standing still, hesitant. 

 

Untill one day I dare to make a move, jumped from the window of a sixth floor room, fell onto a structure that should have crumbled beneath me, but remained standing for I remained humble and steady. 

 

With every jump down I defied possibility and gravity, had my eyes fixed on the path that lay ahead of me, to free myself from chaos and uncertainty, I just knew I had to leave. 

 

To an open door of a car below whilst the guards attention slowed, showed me the way to go, I can't falter, I can't fail is all that I know. 

 

The scavengers grab at the handle shouting with menace, to late as into the distance I vanished almost crashing through a wall I managed to keep control, to the bright house which represents safety, I go. 

 

Finally free sitting within a beach side garden under a tree reflecting on a dream, instead of suffering death, I wake up safely in my bed.