My empty existence is due to
The unfortunate events that took place in my childhood
I left home to see life at twelve.
I had to work, work and work
in the streets, in the suburbs of London
to make some money and then to eat.
Though not decent is my labour,
I can manage to earn my living.
In the last days, fear, crime and blood
flooded in London alleys.
Most of those like me were
Disembowelled Raped and ripped.
Nobody knows who this beast may be.
Afraid of having a similar fait,
I decided to go on cautiously
With my job. After all,
Starvation is even worse
than a serial murderer. You know?
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