3rd World Hustler

Steps his foot out of the door with granny’s anointed words if blessings were edible, he’d have been fatter than North America faces the day’s task with immunity to the heat of the sun dines with the wild to keep the oil running the quest for a better tomorrow begs for a step further a bright mind, a weary heart, a bunch of hard nails and strained muscles still yet deserving of any praise one added day and his large hope is a chronic liar for an upgrade, his life is becoming an outlay. After the rigorous relay, the day ends in a sleep commenced through deep thoughts the alarm rings at dawn, no fresh start, the cycle continues he’s sunk in this ocean until a miracle sailor comes through.