think about it

I grew up, sorry, I survived the stiff terrain of the place you call ghetto
I barely had a meal but good riddance I had a tummy to boast off,
At least you and I had something in common; mine a hypothetical illusion of satisfaction, your's; 
A symbolic portrait of lavish indulgence
My quench for education was the hope I could call hope
Herds of my kind in a rectangle we dubbed class
Managed to forge eye sight in the misty atmosphere of our little academy
Don’t ask me about high school
Completing high school is the miracle I know,
Apart from the miracle of an overturned oil tanker
Hardly got a bursary because I was better off than the chief’s kid
Missed a scholarship since I lacked a birth certificate
But hey, here I am, still clinging onto a falling straw
Think about me next time you wake up to your business mentality
If dying on the call of duty is certain, I’ll heat the streets
To protest against the high inflation pressing against us the lowly citizens
To demand an answer to the corruptible tenders and puzzled procurements
And if fate grants me a place in this nation in question
I hope to turn water into wine
To construct paths to Canaan
But the question still remains…..
 
What if I end up like you?
Only a miracle can save us, only a miracle