The tears

The tears in my eyes that
slowly flow down my face
like a river. Sleep in detention
knowing that it gets so cold to
the point I would shiver, as I
sit and think what is my
mother cooking for dinner.
I say to myself I want to
change. But I think again
I can’t turn my back on
my gang. People tell me to do
right but I always choose
wrong before right.

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