So proud of her son when he emerge from her womb,
Now some years later, his mind is lost in a secret tomb.
How his mother would always beg him to stay in school.
Now he stands on a street corner with a gun thinking he’s cool.
His mother weeps when he does not come home at night.
But in his mind, hanging with the boys is alright.
A car passes by with a girl he knew from long ago.
He hangs his head because the memories of her are so old.
As the day floats out of the sky and turns to dusk.
Now comes the hardest part, who can he trust?
But before I could finish writing this poem everyone started to run,
A car drove by and there was a shot from a gun.
I was shocked as I stood up and the pen fell from my hand,
As I looked up across the street, the people did stand.
There laid this forgotten boy on the ground.
I made my way through the crowd and heard a chilling sound.
A little girl about six was over the body crying.
Saying: “Please someone help!”
“He is my brother, he is dying!”
People just looked away as if his life was done.
They did not care that this was somebody’s son.
From My Book: Poetry For The Open Mind