Mama said 'School is over Son pack the clubs to the car
Papa's gotta new bag.'
I entered mommy's old Ford Focus
we drove central from the suburbs to London's
It was around that time that i learned to realise that i hated mama's brushing of my mop, when my mom brushed my mop with hand. Who's hand?
'That wasn't necessary.'
I wonder if Kevin is the right word to justify myself if i was absent of all
I was scorned out of the car when we arrived down Bank and Papa gave back to me the clubs.
The gun. Forced to hide my face with my ginger mop.
'Wipe that smile. Now i may enter.'
Mama was right them banks had plenty of money.
Surely the people shall see us through
but i knew nothing about those people.
I clutched the gun
and set it on load. Wiped spit on my Mop
and then entered Lloyd's TSB.
'Nobody ****ing move!' In the highest tone of my voice;
a super sonic screech and they held their ears.
'Give me the money!'
Man it's hard to keep the attention of the working class
even with a twelve year old boy holding a
loaded gun and Papa's ole birthday clubs
i remember saying to myself
So i shot that receptionist from Column Seven on the right eye.
I imagined this to playing shooter with my Cousin, Robert
with the syringes that granny brings over for Christmas.
The whole audience were now
'Y'all give me cash.' i remember saying
but no response was given.
I was outraged so i shot uncontrollably until
they'll fell like the leafs from the dusk of autumn.
My mop began to drip;
The saturated effect of a young boy crying.
Ma and Pa left me when they heard the first bullet
when 'Tina', from column seven, was exterminated.
Kinda reminds me of the time i used a bread knife to slit the throat
of my 'little men'-that kind of extermination.
I was arrested 7:43pm of that very same day.
Father said 'You don't have to go to school today.'
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