breathing.

this poem i wrote back when school was in session for my 2nd period Poetry class.

inhaling,
exhaling,
and hoping ..
he can continue
grass green, sky blue;
all this, he knew.
takin' things for granted,
his life gone ?
he couldn't fathom.
and all the material things ?
he had 'em.
and all the girls ?
yep, he bagged 'em.
we thought he had it all,
'til we all seen him fall.
he was always on a roll,
never heard stop;
Freeway, tryna take it to the top.
his fall was something vicious,
no one ever envisioned ..
the "fly cocky dude"
finally lost his cool.
and while everyone was leavin' ..
his only thought was ...
how could he stop breathing.