POVERTY, MURDER, VIOLENCE
The hood has its moments,
It's rare to find a thug on
A quest for atonement.
Drugs corrupted the
Streets, now we know
America carries defeat.
One by one, bodies fall
At our feet. The streets are
Ruthless, death over runs the
Corners, yet we act clueless.
And in my puddle of sin, I
Must stop to see the situation I'm
In.
YOU ARE READING
False Hopes & Dreams
PoetryPoems all written by yours truly. ; some poems are inspired by rappers or poets
