the ones you dread

we are the chosen ones,
the illegitimate sons,
the incested daughters,
the smudged faces
of orphans,
kicking a dirty soccerball
through dusty, drunken lots.

we hold a secret
deep down in our shirts,
a midnight cry, a city scream,
a heart-hurt,
like an M-80 frozen
halfway through explosion.

we are the ones you dread,
the same ones you put hope in;
for we will find our way,
and in finding ours, we will find the map
for you to
find yours.