High Tops

Laced up high tops
with strings strung tight,
blood stains in the blue
from another ghetto night
instead of watching
this time I joined the fight-
Ended up busted and bruised
left for dead under a streetlight.
My ribs were cracked 
and my nerves were tugging-
all in an effort
to stop a petty mugging
and my body feels heavier
from the beating I'm lugging-
though I lost so much blood
all the lights look fuzzy
and the guiding north star
doesn't seem to be above me
walking with bones fractured
and bones shattered-
my face battered
but to me, pain never mattered-
as my brain is scattered
a new stain spatter
appears on my shoes;
the mark of the experienced
over the navy blue
drag myself on
with no help from the cops-
thinking about how the violence
never really stops,
as the sangria tears
in my wound burns hot,
I re-lace my shoes,
And walk back home;
High tops.