He's on his way.

He's on his way. 

Trying to get paid for something that matters to him.

He's on the way on out the door because he got fired. 

He's making is way to the dope peddlers down the block.

He's made his way into the back of a cop car.

He's in a coffin resting 6ft under.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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