RIP.

Statistics don’t mean much until it hits home,

When it does it cuts deep into your bones,

Now I’m not talking about fractures that affect your ligaments,

But I’m referring to the open cut wound,

That emerges when you hear painful news,

I go on my socials and I’m seeing RIP,

The pain seeps in deeper as I sigh with disbelief,

Jamal who wasn’t even gang affiliated got caught up in the mess,

He was my bro from secondary but better known as a teacher’s pet,

In other words he was a really good youte,

He was humble, joker and a good future going for him too,

I will never understand why the good always go first,

The pain in my heart is making me really want to curse,

But I can’t imagine how his mum is feeling right now,

He was her only son and that made her proud

And what makes it worse is that this is nothing new,

it’s been happening all the time

But only now they want to put on the news

Young people are scared to go out of ends

if you do they could be the one that’s next

I’m tired of seeing mums crying on their beds,

Reality kicks in that their son is really dead

These youths need to understand that it’s not a game

You can’t go and kill someone and take their life in vain

How are these points that you gain going to benefit your life?

You’re not hard, so don’t be about that life,

You don’t even understand the damage that is done

With that knife

Headlines come up and it’s the 62nd death,

Statistics don’t mean much until it touches your chest,

Until you realise who’s dead

RIP .

Abbie