I come from

I come from dusty streets where shadows creep, Where weary souls their troubled vigils keep. They kneel to gods who offer only pain, And find their faith returned with bitter rain. I come from whispers laced with jealous ire, Where others' triumphs fuel a hidden fire. A helping hand, a kind and open door, Are mocking jests to those who ask for more. I come from dreams that yearn to touch the sky, But find their wings clipped, destined not to fly. The hustler's climb, the striving heart's desire, Met with a gaze that seeks to quench the fire. I come from corners where the silence sighs, For absent hands, and government's closed eyes. No flowing water, light that flickers low, Just barren promises where nothing grows. Yet from these dust-worn paths, a spirit gleams, A burning hope that weaves through broken dreams. Though roots are deep in sorrow's barren ground, A strength is born where struggles most abound.