The downward spiral of an unguided youth.
Educated, alas only wasting time,
No prospects of any prospects,
Street corner gang, slipped into petty crime.
No hope, a downward spiral,
Another fine, a character stained,
His Parent’s in blind denial.
The art of Graffiti a routine task,
Cigarettes and cider,
Keeping up a rebel mask.
Sleep by day, awake after dark,
Hijacking the swings,
Broken glass and butts in the park.
Waiting for luck to turn good,
Wanting an easy life and money,
A chance to leave the boys with hoods.
So Forgotten by the elected,
Politico’s Heads buried in the sand,
Part of a generation neglected.
Signing on week by week,
No experience so no job,
Outlook, so despairingly bleak.
Another day, another fight, his everyday life,
Intensive care, the trauma,
The other boy used his knife.
Parents around the bed in tears,
Doctors say expect the worst,
The sum of his parents fears.
His life ebbed away so very, very slow,
Untapped potential, empty few years,
What could have been, we will never know.
An uphill struggle for this forgotten son,
Hope, action and guidance required,
Or what will the next generation become.
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