I am kid from the block.
That shivers when it rains.
That never stands but gets slain.
Pierced by bullets concretes crooked.
The kid from the block
That my father sold on these very same corners
Holler if you hear the sirens cause there come the coroners
The kid from the block
That missed a bullet which the kid was inches away from being shot
PTSD from the block
In the kid hands there’s a glock
Survival
A Fighter
No shooter
But he’ll never loose her
He just had to leave the kid on the block
and to him there’s the shock
That the glock
Is to the kid
The kid was killed
On the block
What’s worse is the news nocked of the worlds socks
He was killed by his pops
Who died on that very same block
By that very same glock
Poetry