A young man lay’s dying

with a knife in his chest,

the wound keeps bleeding

a passer by tries his best.

A crowd then gathers

at this boy lying still,

just another lost soul

on the street has been killed.

They know who the boy is

by the colours he wears,

the gang member tattoos

on his arms that he bares.

As young as this boy was

a childhood he had none,

brought up with violence

and to live by the gun.

To steal from his neighbour

or to hold up a store,

sell drugs on the street

for just a few dollers more.

As another boy lays dying

with a bullet in his chest,

a mother stands crying

another gang member less.