Hometown Symphony

I feel like a stranger in these estranged streets I once called home. I roam alone now, no crews to hold me down, far from a far cry of a rap sing along of the “hood I once called home”. I roam alone now, friends, crews I used to claim don’t remember me. I rekindle the light on my candle of memories.  I often wondered outside these barred project windows, would I ever leave ”tha hood”, wondering can I be that 1% they speak of… in my hometown dead bodies were found, in my hometown babies are having babies.  The night sings symphonies of the hustle, hoop dreams, the night shift while Ms. Mary’s son sells china white down the street of the turnpike; Ms. Angie’s daughter hangs with marijuana. The back stair cases, front post hang out spots. In my hometown, the youth lost their value in respect and the meaning of appreciation. Yet some parts of me wants to give back, some parts of me wants to rehash on the lost handshakes, broken pavements I walked on…but it’s that uncontrollable force that holds me back from where I need to be…in my hometown I am forgotten…but I rather it that I way…in my hometown I was lost in a world that never found me, I had to find myself…and that is why my hometown is a forgotten memory…

 Write to Make it Right!