I'm a little man
curled up in a cardboard box,
with a bowl in my hand.
The bowl is empty,
of course it is,
yet my eyes still reflect
the bright of hoping
that some time it won't be.
You might want to know
what I beg for:
I want at least one person
to give me love,
to care about me,
to like me,
to befriend me—
will you be that person?
No?
Oh, whatever—
I'm already used to that.
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 12:53 PM UTC
I'm a little man
curled up in a cardboard box,
with a bowl in my hand.
The bowl is empty,
of course it is,
yet my eyes still reflect
the bright of hoping
that some time it won't be.
You might want to know
what I beg for:
I want at least one person
to give me love,
to care about me,
to like me,
to befriend me—
will you be that person?
No?
Oh, whatever—
I'm already used to that.
