Frankenstein himself

Born in the streets
Son of some whores 
There lived a guy
Who had never been gay

Hated every  day 
Cursed the nights more
None listed  to his pray
he was made by  gods secondhand goods

Smiling faces made him wonder
How come they never face the worlds terror
His fate was sealed on their kindness
Held  a plate hoping for their tenderness

He stood their with a beating heart
Hoping for some belly feeding currency
he was nothing but a beggar
A man from the gheto with no identity

Nobody called him son
Nobody kissed him like a mom
He lived a life not even satan would  dare
Knowing the day he  die nobody  would even care

He kept a starving stomach
When the dogs  were greeted with meaty treats
He stood there and wonder
What was his wrong doing!


He never lost his hope
His heart still beat without fear
Rehearsing for the day he could finally smile
He wandered along the streets day and night

he was the  legend Frankenstein himself
Forgotten omitted eliminated being
Who eats from the waste to continue living
He is the man god forgot about
He is the man we forget about....









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