"The Truth, Not the Eulogy" by Nikoli T. Burgher (Snr)

Now little Billy, jovial and silly,
Son of John and Milly.
Respectful child not rude or spoiled,
His pleasantness would make you smile.

But little Kyle his neighbour’s child
The rotten egg, like blue on bread
Messed up Billy’s head.
And even though he is alive, his parents say he is dead.

Now in the streets no food to eat.
Concrete his bed, card board his sheet.
Dreams at nights of coffins and wreaths.
Punches and kicks is how hard life beats.

He wiped his tears and linked the man with the plan
Who gave him a start to be someone.
Everyone calls men like these Leaders of nation,
I just call them Politicians.

Money in his pocket, now he is the man.
People in society calling him don.
Gathering youths, forming Gangs.
Feeding them like dogs, putting guns in hands.
Their lives not significant, they’re just his protection.

Now it’s hustle time, locking the corner.
Gun in waist, socks filled with marijuana.
Looking at friends celebrating their graduation in the diner.
He is a high school dropout so it’s all about that dinero.

Hands up! Freeze!
He touched his waist and trigger was squeezed.
He fell on his knees, begging cops please.
Crying out for mother as he wheezed.

Crying like a baby no longer tough.
Bloody and bleeding, but still put in cuffs.
Community rejoices they have had enough.

Good bye Billy, you will be missed.
Your Eulogy will not speak of this
But the life you live is your truth.
And it will be a lesson to our community youths.