I was made to dance across the cobblestones in my bare feet,
Cutting my toes and slicing my heels, bathing my skin in a ruby sin,
Burning my feeble legs in the scalding heat
But not once did I complain.
I was forced to clean up after the mess of others,
Working all day on my hands and knees, scrubbing and polishing,
Till my hands were raw and dead flesh peeled from my fingers.
But they did not hear me complain.
I was treated like vermon, in my own home. Beaten and punched daily,
Scolded for breathing too loudly, until the day they turned me away,
And i survived on the streets, alone and helpless, starving for food,
Craving the love, the love of which i'd been robbed.
Deprived since the day I was born. Still I did not complain.
I skipped merrily along, with a smile on my face,
Still holding belief and a warmth in my faith.
I did not complain. I did not feel the need.
As i hobbled and crawled, searching for a place to rest my head,
A place to sleep and dream of what may have been.
Still I did not complain. Because I had known no different.
And you'll never miss what you didn't have.
not really a scheme here...i don't think anyone will like it much..just an idea i had.
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=17125
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