...at the crack of dawn
a boy was born
and slowly- reluctantly,
he opened his tiny eyes
and soaked up the sterile light
then, right then,
he let out a sharp cry
a wail,
a whistle had been blown
he was pinched by the devil
the playing field-
it was never level
from the onset, or was it?
was that child going to
be born a beggar or a thief
would his life be, full of grief
would he grow to be
a leader, a reader
a seeker, would he be weaker
than his father or rather
would he live to give
his everything
to another...?
