A poem written by Paula Golden, a mother of three.
Do you hang out with really cool friends,
and rather not ask what gang they’re in?
Until you go out with a few of them,
and two stray bullets pierce your limb.
You didn’t think that you’d get shot,
taking a stroll and exchanging talk.
Everyone scatters and one might stay.
The bullets for them, struck you today.
Why me? you cry in disbelief.
Drive-bys kill, cause pain and grief.
Battles are fought when we’re at war,
not in schools, on streets, or in cars.
What did they do to cause this fight?
Who would wish for such a plight?
You plea for help. Why should you die
for the cowardly act of a ruthless guy?
Things you planned and wish to do,
those “so-called” friends almost blew.
That’s right, those bullets have no name.
Whoever shot them, won’t take blame.
Even when some child’s been shot,
There’s civil unrest till they’re caught.
You lay bleeding and almost dead.
Help arrives but your last friend fled.
So be careful who you befriend.
Gangs recruit kids like it’s a trend.
Some live a drug and risky lifestyle,
which leads to death or often guile.
Hear these words and spread the truth.
Guilt by association kill innocent youth!