Hu-strugglers (HUSTLERS + STRUGGLERS) – A poem by Zr Writes
Every day we struggle,
Struggle to find for our lives, a meaning.
Every day we hustle,
take a look at the mirror, and wish for a new beginning.
On our faces, we wear darkness,
a darkness that envelopes our fruitless labors.
Our heartbeats tiredness,
For we bleed all day just to find favors.
We wish to things we do not have,
And bleed to things we wish not have,
We hope for things we could have,
Hope to glory, Hope to wish not to serve.
Countless stars beam at our failures,
As we look up to find some favors.
We close our eyes to pour our hearts out,
Alas! no one found us to hear us out.
Our steps are filled with thorns,
Like the once defeated dragon.
Our legacies seeming to be forlorn,
Our sky’s silver lining going forgone.
Cries of our young lay down like a carpet,
Goes half a mile in than a pointed bullet.
Says our feeble Hearts.
This is their story
The story they all write.
One day I hope to them some glory
To them, the Hustrugglers.