The darkness engulfs him
And he wonders why he's doomed to this life
No one cares
No one spares him a second glance
They just pass him by
Not looking at him with any care
"Buy your papes!" he yells
If he's lucky, someone might buy one
But more often then not
It doesn't happen
He sees people on the street
So well dressed, so well groomed
Can't spare a penny for a poor starving boy
So why can't he just lay down and die?
God isn't ready to let him go, but he doesn't care
Why should God care about him?
A poor, starving newsboy in the streets of New York
God, to him, was never really there
But he'd sell his soul to the devil for a bed, and some food
He's always hungry, always exhausted, and always ignored
So he's given up on God, on faith, on love
On everything
'If there is a God' he thinks, 'Why doesn't He or She care?
Why am I still a damn newsboy?!'
The darkness is growing thicker
He can't hear the sounds of the streets anymore
And his vision is clouding
Wouldn't it be easier just to fall asleep?
Fall asleep, and never wake up?
Yes
Maybe it would

A/N: OK, I wrote this on a whim, and PLEASE don't tell me I'm
suicidal, because I'm not. This is just the ramblings of a poor,
depressed newsboy, who's just given up on life. But it's NOT about me.
So, please review!