None predicted the damage inflicted
On Jonah's soul before it was too late,
For day by day those he thought were his friends
Injected him with their lies and their hate;
They taunted him with bets enthused by threats,
Asked him to do what others would not do,
Swarmed around him so he could not refuse,
It was not like they had something to loose.
Petty crimes and jail times - all that they endured,
Their words, like graffiti, etched in his mind,
Showing him a world of empty of kindness,
None thought of whom he would leave behind.
Then this poor buck ran out of luck,
Scraped in a fist fight with a rival gang,
The last thing he saw was some metal flash,
The last thing he heard was the gun go bang.