New Life Down South


many think of corn fields and the amish,

I think of hurt and memories I desperatly want to forget.

The potholed streets,

the vacant houses,

the hypodermic needles on the playgrounds,

then theres my house.

in my hood,

where I would have to wake up three hours before school,

just to see if my street was closed due to a homicide,

school didn't care why I was late, 

they just knew that I was late.

my best friend died one morning,

we had a conversation the night before,

"I want to get out of here" I said,

"here is all I know"

that was the last thing he said to me,

that was 2013.

six years later

I now wake up 30 minutes before I have to be at work.

I have not seen a pothole, vacant house or drug needle in months,

I am 900 miles away from the City that stole everything from me,

my best friend,

my father,

my mother,

even my dog.

I was not going to let myself go down the same road.

My skin is brown now,

no longer pale.

I have no fear now,

the gunshots I hear now are man vs animal, not man vs man,

yes, I am lonely,

but I am alive. 

I did what I had to,

to make sure I survive.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community


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