his name is andre but goes by the name second chance
a young black kid, age 19, look close and you will glance

the name of his friend, reggie moore, tattooed on his back
rest in peace it reads, age 18, life gone, presence lacked

the two were in a car accident and moore lost his life
chance was comatose for months, a doubtful future rife

he’s now well and good, wisened despite a young age
we talked about religion, the spirit, those who are sage

he told me “from now on your name’s buddha because
gifts given you by the cellmates have given me pause”

he is a reflective young man, by race a brother
introspective and intraraced, i am deemed an other

such are we classified in a place called a jail
for fights break out over the lowliest of detail
an alliance between us two groups just for smooth sail

since my release i think about what i went through
thankful i’m in one piece, who i met, who i knew
i’m not the same person anymore, i’ve changed, i grew

second chance wherever you are i just want you to know
i’m keeping the name you gave me, i’m honored, that is so
i will never forget you my man, my homie, my bro