The area is all but silent with cries of mothers holding their child. Gun shots ablaze and people fear for their lives, but what is the point of being alive when you are not living?
People go out and see the graffiti and gangs bundled together on corners and abandoned buildings while getting supplies to last them for a while with hopes no harm will come their way. Nothing is set in stone, but anything can happen. Anything.
High hopes for a city with only dreams of making it big when only down. Tears were wept and blood is shed, but hopes still rise as people still fall. Love is what keeps this city alive. Each day is a new beginning. Each day comes with a new hope. It should not be known as the motor city. It should be known as Detroit, the poor city with rich hopes.