painted

painted silver skin

faces plastered,

atop a grin

barefoot, the silver caked

on concrete roads

blackened and baked

the knives twirled and glinted

the scarred arms

my mind imprinted

twelve hours you stand

bathed in red light

tin can in hand

empty stomach, empty can

our worlds a line

between street and van

another life we could have known

but as I sit in safety

three knives are thrown

they sparkle in the humid air

threatening life

and yet you dare

as I live in comfort,

you perform, juggle.

as I go to school,

your food is a struggle.