Knivez.

The death call of the whining sirens,
A mother sits slumped over the curb crying,
Holding her son’s head tight to her chest,
He’s irresponsive, unconscious… dying.

Blood bared by the blade of a knife,
Drains filled with seeping emotions,
Police and paramedics flood the scene,
Trying to resolve the unresolvable commotion.

The chest compressions commence,
The repulsion of the lifeless body,
Silence sweeps the solemn faces,
Along with the dreaded phrase, “I’m sorry.”

Someone had to bite the bullet,
And disturb the peace of everlasting tranquillity,
Changing a family’s life in a split second,
All in consequence of today’s youth vulnerability.

Now stands a hard stone grave,
Which encapsulates a once young thriving chap,
His soul suffers punctures,
Family forever reminiscent on the life he could’ve had.

Innocent hearts shatter into fragile pieces,
Not every soul is coated in titanium armour,
Death and bad luck is none discriminatory,
Anybody could get caught up in the drama.

Thanks for reading, I hope everyone is having a good weekend.
Jonathan :)
(image credit: http://fight4change.org.uk)

Original poetry by @jonathanyoung