The young man was difficult and irascible they claimed
Like the pits of hell, he was always fired up
His eyes gazed with intent and focus
He sought trouble or may be it always found him
He chose to live on the edges of the community
To them he was dreg of society

Unknown to them, life had dealt him a bad hand
No family to call his own
Push away from every place he tried to call his own
The streets had hardened him
Life had made a fighter
He was no longer a push over
He wanted respect
He demanded it
With quick wit and faster hands
No one dared to go, toe to toe, with him

He kept his own company
But he always he remembered those who did good by him
For those who did otherwise,
They had a broken jaw to nurse
All he ever wanted, was a fair shot at life