The Gangster's Little Prince

The Gangster’s Little Prince He walked the streets with a shadowed face, A feared name in every place. Cold and ruthless, sharp as a knife, He knew nothing of love — only war and strife. His hands were stained with endless sin, A heart like stone, no warmth within. But one fateful night, beneath the rain, He found a boy — cold, trembling, in pain. Eyes wide and scared, the child stood small, Alone and broken, with no one to call. The gangster stared, his breath drew tight — For that tiny face softened his fight. "Come with me," he grunted low, And the boy obeyed, nowhere else to go. The ruthless man, the feared cold king, Became a father — an unexpected thing. He dressed the boy in the finest threads, Placed a crown of warmth upon his head. "You're my prince now," he whispered one night, "No one will hurt you, I'll win every fight." He shielded the boy from storms and pain, Walked miles to bring toys through endless rain. His hands, once cruel, now brushed his hair, His cold heart softened — the warmth was there. The gangster smiled like never before, For love had unlocked a forgotten door. The boy would laugh, and his soul would glow, Melting the ice he used to know. Years went by, and the boy grew tal