They called me hot boy
In this hot sun
Heat's too much
Dry pocket
Empty stomach
Light bag
Swallowing nothing but my spittle
Ashamed to beg
Poverty-stricken
Down to the bed
Hands down
Anger poured out on my pillow
Well I know
That,Behind each smile,is a silent fight,
We hase dreams through endless nights.
Heavy books and worried minds,
Searching for hope they long to find.
Empty pockets, hearts still strong,
Holding on when days feel long.
Every tear hides strength untold,
Every setback shapes their soul.
One day these struggles will fade away,
And their dreams will shine in brighter days.
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