Birth… ©

By Ben Bustillo - Prohibited its reproduction.

He was born yesterday,

No music, jubilation or enjoyment,

One more human being in the system of what we call life,

Of a young mother and father of a one night stand…

A childish mother ill with a common malady,

She was poor and scarce of education,

Leaving him just one possible destiny,

The street…

When a he is used a she could be too,

Because is to both to whom happens every day,

Children of the street in any city or town we always see,

Like the piece of food we eat at every meal…

Yesterday is today and it has always been,

When a baby is born not knowing from whom,

With a future of a cold street,

With a body for sale at the bargain of the day,

With a soul with no life not knowing what a soul is…

There are words that they listen absent of a meaning,

There are roads that they walk without a path,

Some are sounds, or silences with emptiness,

A short life that ends within the distance…