Youths in the street, jostling all together
They laugh, they joke, hoodies any weather.
Phones out watching videos they have made
A boy, the last victim whom they had preyed.
Their last attack, fatal, a poor young boy
A pack, circled, to see blood spilt oh joy.
Grounded surrounded, begging for some help
Calling for mum, he cannot help himself.
His eyes, such fear, knowing he’s gonna die
The last, final gasp, as life leaves his eyes.
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Phil lister 03/06/18