Each Morning

Each morning my eye lids was like a front door to the streets Outside reflected what I saw from the sheets I learned gang sign language before I could speak I learned to spell from street signs When someone got murdered I'd practise on those yellow police signs These four words stuck out each time Your days are numbered The ends were flames in summer I learned to count when I realised I could count on One friends taught me to ride on his stolen bicycle Two hands approach me on the ground I fell and I felt like a fool Three people jumped over me One hoodie Two boys in blue Four friends came over Hearing all the noise we knew Five minutes was the difference between either This hustler in a hoodie celebrating freedom or Being chauffeured in the back of the police car The closest he got to class was Class A He stood there in cuffs looking blasé Thinking no one saw where he stashed it Tightened his poker face As the pigs oinked through his jacket It happened outside our humble homes Far from a glass house Our innocence granted us permission to cast stones I can't vouch for the index fingers on my peers I knew it was rude to point but my friend didn't The Hustlers tears fought for freedom as he accepted his fate Life went on as the police car left the estate