Words about a Girl

A fictional poem dedicated to the souls lost to gang violence. May they rest in peace.

Words about a Girl

 

She kissed her brother goodbye at thirteen;

Running out the back door unseen,

Throwing away her family and education

With each step of declaration…

Adrenaline pumping and sweat forming

She turned a corner, her green eyes storming.

THUMP, THUMP…THUMP, THUMP

Her heartbeat slowed and she began to walk,

Approaching the alley to find ‘Hawk’.

THUMP, THUMP…THUMP, THUMP

There was no turning back

If she wanted in the pack.

Five shadows stood behind the leader

Staring so deeply, as if they could read her.

THUMP, THUMP…THUMP, THUMP

To ensure she could handle the deal,

Her mind shut off for her soul to steal.

The five shadows beckoned her in,

Claiming to make her their kin.

THUMP, THUMP…She stepped to the plate

THUMP, THUMP…Nearer to fate

Flashes of a loving mother filled her head,

A father whom would never see her wed �"

But her heart turned cold

She made a stance of pride to hold.

As the five shadows stood about

‘Hawk’ spoke firmly, “there’s no way out.”

The acceptance was palpable in the air

And with short pause, the shadows tear.

THUMP, THUMP…

In a second she was on the pavement.

One sneaker charged her head

Two...three...four, five, six…

Four more sneakers hit her ribs;

Her breathing was barely there, ragged.

They proceeded to smother her face…

Into the ground.

She could feel pebbles buried in her cheeks

And blood in her mouth.

Shouts to entice the shadows rang out.

The eyes that could once see, sealed shut

Cut and bruised to no extent.

A foot grinded into her head…

Making her a part of the pavement.

This felt wrong, it was crossing boundaries

‘Hawk’ gave her his word…

They would only roughen her up a bit.

Their fists were too brutal, too persistent.

Two pairs of hands pulled her close by her hair,

Yanking and ripping at her tangles.

She could feel her red waves being pulled away,

Her scalp became as numb as her face.

In an instant, she was pulled up

Sagging against muscular arms.

They burned her back and shoulders.

Four pairs of arms stripped her protection,

Leaving her bare to the bitter eyes.

One tear of hope fought to escape,

But the only thing she felt on her face…

Was the warmth of tortured blood.

Through the mist of her thoughts,

The girl closed her eyes painfully

Ignoring the wandering hands �"

Hands that were about to take her whole

And with her, her innocence.

THUMP, THUMP…THUMP, THUMP

This girl’s heart stopped beating

As sirens neared, her kin retreating.

A body covered in tainted blood,

Dirt and grime caked to her like mud.

One soul forgotten without a care,

Her life to the world was simply a dare.

Accusing fingers would point to her home;

Other would blame the streets she would roam.

The yearning to be mean and hard

Bought her a spot in the city’s graveyard.

‘Hawk’ and his shadows walked away,

Watching silently and staying at bay.

Now her loved ones wear black, and cry in wonder

Staring in horror as she goes six feet under.

Her pain was familiar to no other,

But you could see it in the eyes of her young brother.

…

This girl’s story didn’t have to end

And to hell, her soul, the devil will send.

At the age of fifteen, her brother lives on,

While ‘Hawk’ is in the pen, turned into a con.

With the strength of her parents’ love

Her heart beats on, and above.

You can feel the thump, thump

Blood, no longer tainted, flows freely…pump, pump.

 

THUMP, THUMP �" My heart beats for her

THUMP, THUMP �" My heart beats…

[This poem is a work of fiction]

This is dedicated to all of the souls lost to gang violence.  Boys and girls don’t have to, and shouldn’t, choose this path.  Once you’re in it, you’ll never truly get out of it.  Being involved with a gang in any kind of way will not only hurt those involved, but those who surround them.  It hurts tremendously to lose someone you care for to gang violence, so make the right choice.

*R.I.P*

Author's Note

There are probably grammar errors, but uh...too bad. Just read it for what it is. If you're going to critique me on grammar, I'll take it, but I won't care. I write my poems the way I [emphasis on I] feel they should be written.