Awoken to cold sweats, perspiration on his pillowcase.
Time for school, his destination atop the hill awaits.
Chills and hate, course through this courrupted young mind.
Caught in a deam, all he wanted was to earn trust and bust rhymes.
But at lunchtime, he had a mission, a kid on a mob hit,
His life crashing and burning, as he's locked in the cockpit.
Hot clips, and weaponry, stashed in his backpack.
No schoolbooks, or coldlunch, back in his knapsack.
"Clack clack", his bag ruffled, as he stumbled,
Up the stairs to his humble school where his soul crumbled.
Troubled, and innocent, as he shuffles past little kids.
Grumbles at idiots, his brain is on vacation, subtle and illiterate.
Shudders a little bit, then comes to his senses,
Thinking of the hard time, and life-long sentence.
Consequences, of the act,he drops the bag and starts crying.
Because in his school of victims, he was the only one dying.