Steet Son Poem by Fate McFate

Authorities wipes me off the streets
yet my life and grave is this
This my father, my mother, my brother.
no man's son for I am.

This my paradise and home and castle
on its corridors rests my bed in cold
and in towns dust bin I shop
and school's a tale to me.

Out of victory on rage I and vultures and swine
I nutrition on remnant carcasses at dump site
and tarmac barefooted in ubiquitous swaddles.

Humans despises my discarded aroma
even after bath on street streams
and 'bustard' me on a plea for piece of pea.