A true story of one Christmas Eve,
when I was fourteen.
I remember the gifts under the tree,
some for my brother,
some for my sister,
some for my mother,
but none of them were for me.
I was disappointed, I must admit.
Never liked Christmas Eve,
but since then I hated it.
I asked mom what will I get,
she said: “You'll get that,
what you will get,
go beg on streets!”
And so I did.
It was not my will,
I was kicked.
Remember the day:
24.12.2006
First night I spent
on the streets.
It was cold,
but not freezing,
at least I think.
I had just shirt, jeans, pants, socks,
but no shoes.
I was shivering.
I was lost and had nothing to lose.
I remember the skin,
turning purple and gray.
My mind was set on one thing,
I need a place to stay.
I found some boxes and a blanket,
I didn't mind the smell.
I made my bed near the garbage cans.
Lying there I watched the stars,
cried eyes out,
was asking God,
the only thing I still don't know,
why?
Why was I brought into this life?
Why I can't just simply die?
It was cold,
and it was bad,
but the worst is yet to came.
Forgive them, Lord,
they know not what they've done.
Forgive them, Lord,
because as sure as hell I can't.
I hope nobody has the same Christmas experience.