I thought this place of injustice was to become just
A city of equality
Where we would all smile, holding hands
A city where poor and rich would not exist

But alas I was wrong
Here I am shaking
Looking down onto the city
The city is not a court it is a playground
Not trying the injustice to make justice
Letting injustice to rule the playground, the city

They own the city
Richer and corrupter by the day
Walking in black suits up to their condos
Lying nude on Copacabana and Ipanema
But we never get to live that fantasy

We look atop high peaks
Watching the injustice creep like a road slithering into the mountains
Watching it spread like cancer

They, pushing us further and further up the peak
Our shacks razed, condos built
Their voice is of a man, a well-spoken man
But ours is of an introverted child struggling to communicate
But he tries, he writes
He is me, I am him

Writing on paper
About the injustice, about poverty but about hope too
Then comes the moon and I leave my sheet to finish tomorrow

We lose everyday
But we are still fighting
Shoving and pushing our way up,
Up those crystal stairs to a flickering candle