The hunger killer – K.B

Ain’t two like him …This is not an apology of crime, it’s a reality i’ve met many times and had to escape. I wanted to give a rendering of what I saw and gone through…it includes vision busters and mad people. I’m sorry if it is shocking, but it’s out there. Therefore stay in bed with a hot chocolate 😉 All my best wishes for 2019. Cheers.😊

 

 

The hunger killer

 

 

Ain’t two like him….

He was poor,
He was poor.

Wherever he
Went he saw crime.

Got shot at 5.

Took a gun at seven,
He had fun.

He was poor,
He was poor.

Every day,
He had to eat
Some earth
Mixed up
With cereals,
« Galetas » they
Call it .

His mother got raped,
His father got killed.
He grew up a lonely boy,
Dark and not very talkative.

He met a girl.
She took him
To the world
Of cocaine.

He stopped
Killing for food,
He started
A business,
The unlawful
Kind.

Cocaine..

Every pack
Of powder
Was gold.

He was poor,
He was poor,
He killed for food.
He was in ecstasy
Coz he had to
Save himself.

His world was
Made of horror,
He became
The king,
Sick and disabled,
No parents,
A brother
And a sister
That depend on him.

He was poor,
He was poor,
He dreamt of
A paradise.

He got shot
At 35.

He was poor,
He was poor,

He even killed
For food.

His life was a game
With death,

It finally won.

He stole food
Right out of the aisle.

He never surrendered
To life,

He committed every
Known sin

Despite of himself,

If there’s ever a sin
When you grow up
In a slum with large
Dreams in the mind ;

Dreams of power
And money,

Dreams of girls
And cars,

Dreams of a self satisfied
Life coming out of oneself.

It’s only when he created
The drama he was served
That he became in control
Of his life;
The most respected man
In his profession ;

Elating in constant
Passion.

Peace to his soul.

 
K.B
All rights reserved. 2019.

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