The confused inner city kid
had a gun.
Another boy didn’t show him respect,
so he shot him dead.
The gunboy fled into a park,
under a bush hid
shivering in the cold rain.
Now he was a hero in the eyes
of other kids
Sirens and voices, they have got him now.
One bullet left,
wished he was back home with his mum,
thought of his options…
a hero for all time?
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Comments about this poem (gunplay by oskar hansen )
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