STREET URCHIN (Reloaded) - Niran

“Iyalaya won! Ma demu l’egbe e”; clamors of voices on the streets
I am the child of circumstances, left to live with my wits
Your lost son cursed worse than Jabez
My sorrows to drown in paraga

The tedium of my life; smoke to smoke
Cigarettes lit to death and anger

Violence blossoms with words from my lips

This is my existence; eye for eye and blow for blow
I am the stench to your nostrils
The receptacle of your ridicule
The sore on your aesthetic panorama
The dung your boots tread

 Your eyes, with spite, behold me an ant

Goliaths in your minds; you seek my end
Your politics would use me as grunts
Bamboo sticks to support your Octavian desires
The armor of your bloody ascension
And you wonder why we breathe in violence!

 I am the voice of the street, the whisper in the breeze

The wail on the paths of the morning wind
The lost soul striving to find the road
Even as my humanity gets buried deep with passing seconds
I am the shadow of tears, the emblem of dirt
But inside me, I seek salvation 

See the first version below
Street Urchin