.. first grade

boy on his bike
stops and stands,  
wasn’t the first time  
he’d seen a dead man,  
look down at his shoes,  
still had them on,  
totally amazed,  
usually they’re gone,  
even had gold  
still around his neck,  
it wasn’t a robbery,  
then.. “what the heck“,  
lights and sounds  
from a psychedelic stage,  
hypnotizing children  
at a very tender age,  
whispers in the crowd  
begin to get loud,  
“yeah he deserved it  
he met his fait”,  
“snitches get stitches,  
wind up in ditches,  
or even like witches  
get burned at the stake”,  
“he spilled to the man  
they baked a cake,  
play the man’s hand  
an earned his death date”,  
lights and sounds  
from a psychedelic stage,  
hypnotizing children  
at a very tender age,  
with no emotion  
no water in the eyes,  
the boy mounts his bike  
and begins to ride,  
riding by the blood  
as it trickles down the drain,  
from the 9 mm slugs    
lodged in the man’s brain,  
as the child begins  
to contemplate,  
a dark scenario  
starts to reiterate,  
a man told the truth  
and now he has died,  
he’d still be alive  
if he just told a lie,  
lights and sounds  
from a psychedelic stage,  
the hypnotized child  
turns another page..  
reality cuts his mind  
like a lobotomy knife,  
learn how to lie  
or you could lose your life,  
release the confetti  
and have a parade,  
the little boy now  
has passed the first grade..
Written by OG-Poetry
Author's Note
a piece of ghetto etiquette.. something taught and learned at a very early age..
collaborating with the authorities can be a death sentence... from both sides.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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