Hopeless

Stand in the middle of the road 

Shaking, shaking the old rusted tin

People running with nodded heads off 

Some shakes the tin with half pences 

His ragged clothes need to be thrown away 

His empty tummy cries in horror 

His wife, his children gazes at empty sky 

Scratches the barren ground for yams 

Sun baked crops in hopeless 

Prays for God his hands up the air 

"O God, mercy on us " 

His voiceless; speechless life 

Not written on anywhere 

No media, no cameras shutters 

For his poor hopeless life