…….Holla at ya boy, was never coy but full of bombastic, I swear his three wheeler bike help turn night into day, fantastic; tragic was his afflictions but they never changed his convictions, kept his ghetto neighborhood dictions cause he was ours, god gave him to us it’s in his files, a life long history he compiled, when he stands before god I want to be at his trial, to make sure it’s no confusion lord he was your child, sinned due to his weaknesses but mostly love was his style.
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Author:
EvenwheniLie (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 24th, 2025 12:46
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Damaso
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Comments1
A dedication to one I assume lost. Well done
Childhood friend that made a few bad turns in life but loved all the same…
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