Fists contorted into gang sign slogan
Chest drenched in the ink bestowed by brothers
face scarred and eyes dry of tears
sorrow glued to the billboard of your mouth

What would little brother think?
seeing superhero caught in petty crime bloodbath,
Noosed around your neck, you wear your colors well,

arsenal in jeans,
fistful of blades,
Sin in your mouth,
too suave for war tonight,

so you will cruise the block,
just as last night,
and the night before,
and the night before that,

waiting,
for someone
to move a muscle.