One day

spoon after the other,
in the loneliness of the night,
all but alone,
munching and gnashing,
a way through weavels,
just but boiled beans and maize,
the hunger to chase,
lucky that this a meal i could get,
only salt a taste to bring,
and though teary i be,
thinking of this my state,
on hope i ride,
that one day a decent one shall have,
and all that rumble this stomach have,
shall seize in time,
for i believe there be someone above,
that this misery away will wave,
have mercy on i a wretch,
in kindness a soul save,
an unbeliever convert,
until then i be,
in humility this to survive,
to never be sorry for such,
just time that ain't ripe,
awaiting my day,
under dying candles,
and faith,
a destiny to make,
a writing fulfiled,
triumph..