TESTAMENT OF THE STREETS
A glass of vodka on the table,
A chocolate joint between the fingers,
A Tokarev in the bag,
The brain infused with adrenaline.
Misery, a nightmare,
Being poor, a curse,
Forced to drown in illicit transactions.
Survival: a necessity to exist,
Bound to poverty since the placenta.
Murder scenes as the only spectacle,
From the watchtower, the horizon is mortiferous.
Reality proclaims its sentence with a firm voice,
The cruelty of the street teaches raw lessons to worn-out heels.
Gagged souls count the dirty money that corrodes their future,
A pact of survival sealed between greasy fingers and clenched fists.
The heart hardens to feed a hungry mouth,
Prayer turns into calculation, cash becomes language.
Yellow smiles are sold, worn-out allegiances are bought,
Eyes assess, tongues negotiate the unforgivable.
A shiver of metal recalls the origin of the debts.
No respite, the market demands its tribute without mercy.
A verse carved inside lacerated fists,
Ultimate testament of a centuries-old ordeal.
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