Probably a teenager

He was an “urban poet”,
but the old-folks just saw
what was written on the
side of the Chinese takeaway.

He was a “street artist”,
but the parents just saw
the c**k and balls on the
wall of the primary school

One day,
he used fifteen different colours
to paint a portrait of the
Police officer who broke his nose;
the station towered above
the rest of the city,
and now it was lit up
like a rainbow.
The track-suited teenagers who chanted his name
were brought in for questioning -
they left respecting the law.

On the night they caught him,
he was halfway through his masterpiece.
When he arrived at his cell:
battered, bruised, and broken,
they said he got that way when
he fell off his ladder.

It was a successful arrest,
but they regretted celebrating with beer
when they were called into the work early.
On their way to the station,
they saw themselves on walls,
with snouts instead of noses.
And however hard they tried,
the fifteen colours didn’t wash off -
a permanent scar in this city
of urban poets and street artists