Yea I stay in CharRan where niggaz got more AKz u think it's modern day Pakistan... All I hear is damage from choppers/da nines ripen thru da flesh mother's layin ha child down to rest... All dis shit is on my chest dat Sometimes I feel I need a vest, but I know at best dis a test to my beliefs da shit gonna change before I go insane/ fall victim to des streets, but I won't give up cause survivoral is Wat I bleed... I'm all about my cheese but big on my principles and beliefs. I know my mama pray as I roam thru dese streets, with constant thoughts of good cause dats da only way to see life as a whole cause da reality within da truth found in da depths of life's hell have no room Fa sanity just lies/sarrows. Not to concerned about 2mar, cause life keeps no promises in Char-Ran war zone.. Which now is my home, da streets on fire lite up by da array of blue lights, crime scene tape, bullet shells, & blood stains from niggaz brains in da noon of da day...
I think about da times When dey took my folk away SLED kicked in da door all dey saw was crack when dey came on a raid and laided everybody down, put dey hands behind dey backs followed with dere Miranda rights, took my folk away but Granny had our back.. Took us under ha wing didn't allow us to want for a Damn thing... Dats y I get teary eyed When I think about ha to dis day.. I hate da day she passed away it hurt so bad things a never been same... Man dis shit sit hard on my brain every time wanna call your name and fight back tears from da all da pain... Damn life often hands us change but somethings I feel should remain da same... Now I question was I alive to live in a world dat delivers pain all thru out my time not wonder y no one cares if da next man lives/die... When I go home my town remained da Same abandon buildgings, torn apart parks... Kids bullying kids cause dey smart.. Dese same kids grow up to became cold and distraught don't give a fuck about da values dey were taught.. Dey learned violence from da street in which he/She done all their playin as a youngin waist deep in da game... Dis shit has gotta change ...
By: CROC

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Unheard Voice
PoetryA multitude of writings shedding a different Ray of light on various parts of life..