Second Chance

Ela Kazandağ

Born poor,
Without any amour,
Nor armour,
I had to be a charmer,
To survive,
Only reason to thrive,
And strive,
Waiting to arrive.

To a wonderful life,
With a lovely wife,
A stable job,
And listening to a snob,
Five days a week,
If you aren’t weak,
A kid or two,
Maybe a regretful tattoo.

When we went to school,
They thought us a rule,
‘That life should be the octave above,
Do not by any means fall below,
Or you’ll be the man outside,
Who is looking with eyes open-wide’,
Oh wait that is I,
Looking at the mirror across like a horn fly.

I’m a fool,
On a stool,

Asking for hope,
Not a rope,
Begging for money,
Selling my liberty;
The infinite one,
Limited by none.

Not even law,
Was able to declaw,
My innocence,
(I tried to become infamous),
Out of pity,
They only gave me,
A fine of money,
Which was undercover cruelty.

To pay this high sum,
To higher-ranking some,
I have to sell territory,
Sight, mind or body,
I was just trying to steal cars,
For a new life behind bars,
Thanks to a decision justicial,
Now my debt is official.

Without losing any part of me,
I want to live an average happy,
I don’t want to be another tale,
Of cemented street jail,
I will waltz out my misery,
But the music has ended too early,
I want another round of dance;
A second chance.