Born to die.

Born and raised it was all he knew
hide from Gangs or join one too,
stores would pay for safety sought
where drugs guns are easily bought.

He made a name no friends he won
he wasn't afraid to use his gun,
his only love was a girl he knew
real kind of heart and gentle too.

He walked her home one rainy night
he never saw the bullets flight,
he heard her gasp and slowly fall
watched her slump against the wall.

He gave chase in the darkness lost
but revenge he'd seek at any cost,
He roamed the streets night and day
for information to come his way.

Then a name come to him it lead
whoever he was would soon be dead,
he pushed aside the flaking door
and fired until there was no more.

The mother knelt by her dying son
she saw in his belt a loaded gun,
and all the things she had heard
now confessed in his final words.

"Mother forgive me" she heard him cry
and in her arms she watched him die,
her tear drops fell upon his cheek
while begging him to breath or speak.

Reflective glare from midday sun
from shining steel of a empty gun,
people gathered to look and stare
some talking aloud without a care.

Revenge was paid the deed was done
and no pity towards her dying son,
now "Hell awaits", was all he said
and from the crime he then fled.

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Born to die.

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