The street,, that's not where I've always wanted to grow up
But nature has its own plans,, so I buckled up
With empathy,, they accused me of too much care
Oblivious to them,, my kind is rare
So they hit me really hard
Love I couldn't get and its so bad
Therefore I was disgrace and malign
Apparently because to their course I didn't align
Fortune gave me no beauty
That explains why love was a mystery
Birthed into the home of penury
I had a fair share of melancholy
So I set sights on the street
Where the rejected cast their feet
I placed carefully with greater wit
But then,, does it matter, we are the illusioned weak
We cast our struggle and wait for luck to pick
Hustling till we are meek
We are brave,, strength resides in our beak
Characterised by intense fortitude
We climb to great altitude
Against all odds,, we become success with a compassionately attitude
Still in the street,,
I am giving in to their persuasion
Soon,, I would be a broken mansion
Living within the peripherals jurisdiction
Unwilling to yield to their "I care less " attitude,,
I am a man against the multitude
But the street would fold me
It would altogether break me
But when I come out
I would be stronger,,
Bolder
And against all odd,,
Still possessing my very good attitude,,
I am,, a good man in the street,,