About this poem:

This is written for a man I grew up with. I had not seen him since his mothers funeral twenty years ago. He looked rough then. You could tell his style of choice had removed his once happy gleam in his eye and his handsome looks. What I seen was his mug shot on the news. While he was at work as a security guard on a dare he shot a man in the face. At least that is the story the news is telling. And from what I seen twenty years ago I fear the story is true. So sad. What a waste. He most likely will never see the outside of a jail or mental hospital now. I have turned to his mug shot and thought a million times this week. It could of been my life. I just chose a different road. I wonder what makes someone choose the road they choose. Why would someone not want a life that is good. Satisfying. Happy. Not behind bars. You shoot someone and it is something you cannot take back. The man shot died the next day:-(.