Hasty remembers or imagines a seemingly unlikely poet.



He was a tough man
With hard expressions
Etched into his eyes
A man who grew up
On streets named
After bullies
And drug dealers
A place where
Everyday traumas
Played hide and seek
Searching for victims
To harass and carry
Staining words of hate
Inside memories
And engraving them
With hopelessness
A place where horror
Placed its stamp
On all who lived
On these streets
Where hell played
But not this man
This man carried
An invisible force
Smiling silently
And wrapping
Himself in stories
He wrote of love
Of horrible loss
Of brewing anger
He wrote of hope
Of growth and learning
Of beauty and wisdom
He wrote of kindness
Of fragile innocence
Of broken trust
He was a man surviving
And who tattooed
His life in poetry

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