Slumped on a sofa, stubborn!
Cap peak high, dominant!
Displaying his class of street cred,
as oversized sports shoes
and mudcaked tracksuit bottoms
twitch to the RnB bass.

I look into his moody eyes,
behind the macho expression.
I wonder what his teen mind thinks,
as he lights a forbidden fag,
swilling from a plastic cider bottle,
bought by an older lad

"How is school these days?"
He almost looks through me, laughs,
"Its alright!" He hasn't been for days.
He's quiet but wanting to talk,
about gangsters, rappers and gunfights.
Now he's animated, why?!

I try not to encourage,
But I long to understand,
his fascination with pitbulls,
crime, cannabis and the hood,
guns, girls and spilt blood.
What will he become?

What will they all become?