I Am.... We Are
The vibes are great and life is good.
But I always stop and wonder,
What about the hood?
I have friends in the penn,
Fallen brothers forgotten.
Will anyone pick up a pen for them?
What about the hood?
Mothers struggle everyday
All their sons do is stay out and play.
Play with what you say,
Oh not with toys and ropes but with their lives.
Running through the dark playing blind man’s bluff.
But will you know what to say in court when asked to stand up?
What about the hood?
Is there a way out?
Maybe, but they don’t sit around and pout.
Stuck in the labyrinth of 108,
With one gate… but no way to escape.
What about the hood?
Something wrong with this poem?
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