Nothing Could Stop You, From Dying By The Gun

Nothing could stop you from carrying a gun.
Not your father, not your little sister, not your mother.
Not you gang members, not your rival gangs.
You went on with your dying by the gun.

Not the streets,
In which you roamed, not the corner in which you stood.
Not the doctor,
Who warned you, the young female doctor who once
removed bullets from your riddled body.

Nothing could stop you from dying by the gun.
Not your son, not your daughter.
Whom you fed and changed their soiled diapers
Not your son who thought you would live forever.
Not you daughter, to whom you were God.
Not the freedom of the wind blowing in your face.
Not your eyes that refused to look ahead.

Nothing could stop you from carrying a gun.
You stood on the corner and stared at you like.
And you went on dying by the gun.
You stood in the street and 
let your blood seep into your clothing.
Your face turned pale.
Your voice cracked in two.
You fell to the concrete.

But nothing could stop you from carrying a gun.
Not your friends or family who gave  you advice.
Not your son, not your daughter who watched you bleed out.
Not your lungs that filled with blood.
Not your heart that felt your pain.
Nothing could stop you.
You went on dying by the gun.

Not the past.
Not the future of your children.
Not the view from your window, the view of the grave yard.
Not the drugs you sold on your corner.
Not the city with its violence.
Not defeat.  Not success.

You did nothing but go on dying by the gun.
You looked at the tears running down your children's precious cheeks.
You felt yourself slipping away.
You folded your arms across your chest and 
You dreamed of your children's world without you.
Of your space in your gang.
Of your space on the street corner.
Of your space in your family's home.
Of the space in your mother's hears, that would now be empty of you.

And you went on dying.
Nothing could stop you from carrying a gun.
Not your breathing.  Not your life.
Not the life you wanted.
Not the life you had.
Nothing could stop you from dying by the gun.
Not even me.....YOUR GUN.