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Like father, like son.
Workers of the day,
Warriors with little pay,
Experiencing everything but fun every day.
Like father, like son.
With dirty hands and shirt,
With scrambled hair,
Moving ton after ton.
Like father, like son.
With paid lunch and house untouched,
Friends with moths and flies,
Surrounded by people of lies.
Crash! Bam! Woof!
The sounds pierce their ears,
The barks, the disasters,
They are always lurking near.
Their house is sad,
It yearns for attention,
It yearns for company,
It yearns for utilization.
Clothes with holes,
Clothes barely covering scars,
Scars barely leaving skin untouched,
Untouched skin suffering for too long.
The night, sour and cold,
With a candle lit up.
The creaking, tarnished zinc,
And no water to drink on the sink.
With work but no school,
With skills but no knowledge.
The boy follows his father’s footsteps,
Wearing boots of steel and no plans for college.
Everything lacks,
There is never time to relax,
Yet, a smile on his face
Never seems to fade.
Unlike his father,
He grew up nourished
Whether it was with bread,
Or leftovers no one acknowledged.
Unlike his father,
He has a father,
He has a mother,
He is the son of two loving partners.
Unlike his father,
He had a portion of his childhood,
With toys made out of plastic bottles,
And a creativity greater than that of Aristotles.
The boy may not go to school,
The boy may not go to class,
The boy may never graduate,
The boy may never go to college.
But he knows human values and respect.
He has never raised his voice,
Nor hurt a small insect,
He knows how to behave.
He might not have much money,
He might not have money at all.
But he is hardworking,
And in his mind, there is always a lit up lightbulb.
Inventions, creations, innovation,
The boy has learned from his elder family members
The importance of the world and nature;
How humans work and how they have developed.
His hands are always dirty,
Mud covers his fingers,
Dirt infiltrates his nails,
But he’s never done harm, and is always willing to help.
His father and mother raised him well,
Grateful for everything he has,
Appreciative of getting what he needs,
And never agonizing over “what if’s”.
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree”
That’s what the privileged might say to him.
But the boy knows better.
He’ll get his family out of that old neighborhood.
But how does he know?
How will he do so?
He is still so naive
He really thinks he’ll succeed?
When the boy was about to give up
To abandon his everything and move on
He looked around and thought
“How come I can see every particle of dirt on my thumb?”
A lightbulb had been installed,
Near to it, the boy stared in awe,
His father hadn’t only obtained light at his house,
But a bright future shone all around, with the boy’s eyes all light up.
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