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Dec 2015
Who's to blame for a young boy who thinks violence is fun
He chose to drop out and play with guns
And when he see the police he duck off then run
Daddy left him for a quick fix and a few bucks
People tell him he's just a bad kid with no luck
His home boys call him a coward with no guts
If he chooses not to do drivebys or stick ups
they tease him and call him the boy with no nuts
Pressured to be impressive
So he follows the wrong crowd.
But at least they tell him that
he's made them proud
Nobody never cared
So hung around with the thugs, and even though they sold drugs
They showed a young brother how it feels to be loved
They didn't judge a brother by look or books
But gave a young brother a chance
A few grams and grands in his hands
The streets gave him hope
Even though he sold dope
It felt good to have money still rolled up
He remembered those parent conferences where his parents never showed up
So who's to blame?
For a young brother who's lost in the game
Proud of his shame
Forgotten his name
Introduced to money,
drugs and gangs
Now that's the life of a young *****
Who parents never showed him how does it feel to be loved
So don't sit around and say those cops want my baby dead when you was the one that killed him
Could have said
a prayer for him to heal him
Should've gave him a hug but now he's dead he and you can't feel him.
So Who's the blame ?
a old poem I wrote a while ago
Poetictunes
Written by
Poetictunes  20/F/New York
(20/F/New York)   
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