Thunder rolled deeply on the morning as the baby boy arrived,
his father typically absent his mother she wasn't surprised.
Early days were troublesome for a single mother to provide
a home, somewhere that was safe and retain some dignity and pride.
The child grew in hardship, in his mother's eyes he saw inner pain,
he often heard his mother weeping and hang her head in shame.
They survived, and into an average youth he learned and he grew,
not so different to others because, his dad, he never knew.
Early teens, he began leaving his concerned mother home alone,
with bravado hanging around places, with kids he didn't know,
from their dark influences, tricks he learnt well, in guile he was trained,
powerless to change his ways, his mother hangs her head in shame.
Attitudes hardened, he became devious, now almost a man,
so involved he became leader of his own pointless, wilful gang.
One night attempting thievery from a store, they almost were caught,
it's not their manor, they can't avoid the local gang, so they fought,
midst fists - kicks - shouts most ran, but he was pinned against an alley wall
scared, choking, grabbed a bottle from a bin and made that bottle fall
mindlessly, again - again, smashing down on his opponent's head,
fleeing the from the scene, doesn't know the man on the ground is, dead.
his gang has gone, his escape is now blocked by shadows of a group
open arms he walked toward them he's unsure of what he should do
he's encircled, the streetlight reflects each drawn blades dull deadly flame,
and later that night, his mother hangs her head in grief and shame
Michael C Crowder
Hangs Her Head In Shame (rewrite of my 1978 song Samuel)
somewhat relevant in the UK these days