……There’s a boy sitting at the end of the road, looks worried.
……I don’t ave any one to help me; I came in to this
world without knowing who I am.
……My street friends call me dede, is that who I am?
……Nevertheless, I am contended with whatever they call
me.
…… (Sobs) Who is willing to help me find my true self?
……I am neglected, abandoned.
……I don’t have any one to care for me except passers-by
that gives me penny to survive for each day.
……I really want to know where I came from.
……Why did you bring me to this world mother?
……You care less about me.
……You abandoned me, is this really what happens to
everyone in this life?
……Am I the only one experiencing this?
…… ( Sobs) Why me? My Creator?
……I know you can help me.
……Show me the way.
……What if my mother is dead?
……..Oh no!
…….Nevertheless, there is hope for me.
……I can do all things; I will go in search of my true
identity.
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THIS PIECE? WILL APPRECIATE YOUR SINCERE COMMENT.(BOTH POSITIVE AND NEGATIVE) ALL GOOD TO ME.
Bukola Jegede
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