Untitled
He was a soldier,
He was a rider,
Always down for his hood.
He was a top notch gansta
And got all the respect,
That he should.
But he was also a
Uncle,
And a father.
And didn't deserve
What he got.
But with the odds all against him
He choose the only
Path that he knew.
And even though I miss him
And cry because he's gone.
I know he's in a better place
Where that street life don't belong.
Copyright © Mercedes Terry | Year Posted 2006
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment