The Gangster

By Mad Hatter

A boy, no older than 17,
Totes a gun and shows off his knife,
The one that when dry still seems to bleed...

Stains of blood, on a sharp steel blade,
To fit in with those who influence him,
But what they don't know,
Is he was really only protecting himself...

Protecting himself from a father who caused bruises and breaks,
Then to one day take it too far,
Led him down this path to fight, lie, and take...
For Christ sakes...
And they expected him to be stronger?
To go a different path of love, life, and faith?

No...the truth is there is no such path for a boy with his past...
He lives in a broken home, left on his own, abandoned and all alone...
His mother...and those who could have helped, long gone...

To his friends he's the gangster...that everyone respects yet fears,
But behind closed doors, in the dark broken space he calls home...
He is no boy of blood...but of tears...

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Published on Monday, March 6, 2017. Filed under: "Reflective" and "Poetry"

Author's Note:

Never assume to know a person based on what they appear to be from the outside

Comments on "The Gangster"

On Monday, September 7, 2015, 10 Forty Three (543) wrote:

I agree with your message. Even if a person really was who he or she is on the outside, they'd still be my friend as long as they were a good friend to me. Well done.