Grown Young Man


Vivid pictures; envision a soul,

lost in the thoughts that'd keep a grown man cold,

poor kid, just 16, livin in hell,

fightin demons while he deals with the swells, 

of all the dangers and how cops fancy the cells,

but always try to break you down before you make it to jail.

it's kind of funny how we talk about the future but we drag 'em by tail,

is this justice, or, is it a fail?

this is poetry in motion, as he walks the path towards his homeland,

you know,

the place he grew up in, place for just two kids,

him and his brother always caused the greater mischief, 

mama always told them to watch out because of Christmas,

doesn't seem like that'll work now, Trey's just too old

to believe fairy tales that restrain what he knows

This poem is about: 
Our world


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