I was just 6 years old, dropped of by my neglected mother at age 2.
I wonder around looking at the ground. Thinking to myself I'm never going to have a family who love me. I'm going to grow old and die or die of salvation or dehydration.
I'm never going to be normal like everyone else.
All day long I knell in the ground and drew in mud, a family with myself in it. With faces happy and bright. Having a good time standing with shelter and each other.
It's now dark, after a long day. I laid there looking up at the sky with a million stars. I wish for a family who can love me.
