R.I.P.


It's raining bullets and screaming hell.
Another soul to heaven is what this world tells.
Homies dying left to right.
Can we put our prides aside and reunite?
On my knees begging God to keep us alive and every day,
my soul dies on the inside.
Young brothers and little sisters won't make it to daylight.
Death comes day and night taking millions in the night.
Families are breaking and bonds are broken.
Companions becoming angels that always did right.
Rest in peace, angels, may in heaven we stay tight.

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This Poems Story

I like basketball and I live with my mom and sister. I started writing when I was eleven years old. When I wrote this poem I was thinking of the Bobby Tillman story. It really saddened me to know someone could do something like that, they were being plain cruel.