Why am I so unfortunate?

You ever wonder that?

Because I do, and wonder

Why am I always begging at the hands of others?

You know, those who strive to thrive unlike me,

Because I, I stare at walls.

 

I wonder,

Why does the wind change direction in my world?

It’ll blow north, south, east and even west,

All directions but mine,

Why does it never blow in my face?

Why does it carry away with it my hopes, dreams and HAPPINESS?

 

I wonder,

Why is the sky cloudless in my world?

Why are its wings of freedom clipped?

Its hue, rich shades of blue stripped?

Its vanity shamed?

Why does this pain reach the deepest core of my soul?

 

Why are my hands on the floor?

This I do not wonder,

For I am bowed,

Not in prayer though, but in desperation,

And the floor is cold and wet,

So how I wish I could get up,

Not to wonder, but to remember the days of old.