"What A Life Is For?"

The lad lay on the London street
His hand clutching his chest
He saw his life flash by his eyes
He'd tried to do his best
Just sixteen years that's all he was
No trouble making lout
He'd just been in the wrong place
At the wrong time
There's no doubt
A gang of maybe six or eight
Had prompted an attack
No reason for the violence
No strength to fight them back
A flash of light across a blade
Was all he really saw
The pain set in just seconds after
He had hit the floor
And now he'd be a number
A statistic in a book
Another lad who'd died
Whose life was mercilessly took
A common daily problem
Hardly shocking anymore
A senseless disregard for life
And what a life is for.

The End    by David Whitney   c 2021