From the womb, he came out breathing, 

To roars of yelling and from the mother’s grieving. 

Parents struggling, just trying to survive, 

No money to keep the dream alive.

Moving house to house, nowhere to stay, 

Seeking God, but He looked the other way. 

Answers quiet as a mouse in the wall, 

Until a "blessing" came to catch the fall.

Now there's food, but the son is gone wild, 

Hustling for a trade in the streets that kills the child. 

One night the porch light stays on till late, 

A mother whimpers, sensing his fate.

A knock at the door, a gift lit at the porch floor, 

A box with a head that smiles no more. 

The roars of his birth return as a flood, 

To see their provider was paid for in blood.