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