Can it be true?
That I write a poem
Not about me or you
A butterfly an Eagle flies
Somewhere in the city
A young man dies
Violence it seems
has replaced love
Gangs range about
raise a fisted glove
The sign not of the cross
but shared hatred for a brother
For the youth that hates one another
Art work is graffiti
painted on a wall
No longer safe to walk
not packing a weapon
In the halls of school
or at the mall
I remember a much kinder day
Holding hands walking away
The poet in me has died
The day another young boy died
And left in pain
Two mother's cried
For today I write
Not about me
As two promising lives end
In an insane act of violence
You and I have died today my friend