I stay in my own lane,
steering dry
of the train,
Don't care about
the fame,
Just trying to
make a name,
So when the gun
bangs,
who lies in the aim?
who dies when it flames
Two lives in the drain,
Who dies from the pain,
Who cries from the gang
Who lies when detained
Who says they were framed
from blowing out
his brains
Now his body's lame
He walks with a cane
Shooter is deranged
Prison,
his new domain
But really who's to blame
Family crying from the pain
Funeral is not the same
Who will cry when they sang?
That's when the gun bangs..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting poem. Unfortunately, so many lives are exposed to this way of living and as these poor children grow they tend to copy what they've seen and become accusto end to. Nicely done.