Boyz In The Hood

Sleep.
Not a state where our bodies are inert,
But,
More so a way for us to know more than the ‘curb’…

And,
Kids like me?
Usually sleep walk through a Street life so prevalent in the lives of the Urban.
Sifting through so many messages as they go on a search with,
Fully loaded pistols or a pack of some ‘work’ and,
Illuminating your entire soul with Pride for your land full of hurt and…
More hurt and…
More hurt and…
A bit of happiness at times but,
Right back to hurting…

What’s an extra dollar to your name?
If all it does is lead you to a grave,
Sooner than you want,
All for you to get paid,
At the expense of another’s addiction?…

You see a fiend for a drug.
I see a fiend for a hug.
I see a fiend holding drugs they picture as demons dancing on their shoulders while they hunt,
For some peace throughout the day!
But…
In a world where you’re looked at as a piece of shit without a roof over your head,
Or without chains dangling on your neck,
As a prisoner to a check,
Joy is so hard to find,
Even for yourself,
When all you want is a single reason to avoid death,
By your own palms…

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