Reflections on Deaths Given from Gangs in LA
During that night
When no laws existed;
When the purpose of life
Was to be killed;
When cigarettes
(Lighted with
Matches from dead bodies
Who bleed to death
From my very gunshot
Which I regretted so much)
Were stolen from stores
While shooting everyone
That got in our way
From innocent bystanders
To police officers chasing us down the alleys;
During that night—
Which was very real;
But I wish that was never true
Than what I knew—
Guns ruled.
Thick dark red blood
Gushing out of bodies
Pleading to be saved;
Asking for life,
Knowing that it will never be spared,
But to die in seconds
Praying for forgiveness
Praying for their love
Praying for God;
When their hands turn blue,
There were always more people to be killed;
It was a night of infinite deaths,
Satisfaction of killing never leaving
And deaths quickly forgotten
With us carelessly going on.
The death count drops to zero now.
Remembering the many we killed,
Regretting every single one.
But in the prison that we live in,
The night that we all knew happened was
Imprinted on to our minds.
And when the night comes
And the ghost rises
And haunts us for our very lives:
Our lives are the one that will be gone.
