Description : I wrote this poem on an African kid,who suffers a lot in his life. I had seen a documentary in which a small kid worked as a paper boy and use to sell news paper's in the morning,he always dream like to be a millionaire.He's poor and the story's based on that. Enjoy!
I’m Hard Up!
I like the way I walk coz I’m hard up…I like what I talk I’m hard up…
I’m not a beggar but shabbiness seems on my face,
Just like a millionaire I wanna soar... shush...
I’m a paper boy a seer of your pace.
In the night my dream is to fly…
But I m a sober guy, might feel so shy.
I m a freaking soul…
I wish I could stay in a castle my own…right now dreaming in a hovel, a pic of a castle under my eyes shown.
I like the way I walk, coz I m hard up I like what I talk I m hard up…
I think I should play up to be a millionaire… I got two rustic we would share…
But I hate nasty work, it’s so risky… I wanna live my life I’m a frisky.
I want some money to buy some clothes; I wanna shine my shoes just like your glassy car shines…
My friends call me an antic guy…my girlfriend doesn’t love me and says good bye.
I hate my friends, I hate my life, and this is what I call an unsatisfied lifestyle.
I like the way I walk, coz I’m hard up… I like what I talk I’m hard.
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