Post apocalyptic balcony number 13

At first,
Bass vibration from the wall.
Then a voice,
Voices.

“Bitch”
“You ain’t tagged proper, hear bitch”
“Announce, bitch.  The fuck”

Boot, head, back of head wall.
A muffled fog.
Kid Carl, “No, N…”
Boot, stomach.
Boot, chest.
Boot, temple, head pavement.
Boot, stomach.
“Announce, bitch”
“Intentions, bitch”
Boot, Boot, Boot…
Raining pain fades him.
Clouds, a lost mothers arms.

A confident voice,
A different voice.
The husky voice.
A voice saying, “no”.
The voice of an angel.

Just a kid,
In a bed.
Hurting, like never before.

“A cup of tea my child.” The husky voice of an angle.