All alone walking down the street,
Waiting for the afternoon sun to sleep,
Sweat pouring down his sunken face,
walking slow in the Minneapolis race,
Hustle and bustling up Hennepin ave.,
Showing off his battle scars and freedom that he has,
Attempting to slow down the mess of folks,
Running past his dreams and trampling his hopes,
And there it is, it's the sun beam of- death,
So flustered, gotta catch his breath,
Looking over the bridge and tryin to relate,
Digesting all the garbage that he recently ate,
He wonders if there is purpose to stardom,
When he doesn't even know if he owns his own freedom,
He steps over the rail and jumps without thought,
But he lands on a boat that god must've brought,
On the boat are two teenage homeless,
happy to float down the river with a a beat in their chest,
The man wanted death but instead he learned,
That happiness is internal and is never earned,
He swam upon shore and took a pencil in hand,
And wrote down everything he previously planned,
Get new clothes, Get a job,
I walked by and gave him a nod,
Not even realizing that he had determination,
To rise from the dirt to improve my sons nation.