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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Take a look at the streets, and tell me what you see???

Submitted: December 05, 2006

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Submitted: December 05, 2006



Runnin. We stomp triugh these Ghettos,
filled with forgotten men.
Young girls lost, and the police siren.
We runnin.
Without a purpose, wiyhout an end.
Leaving behind the blood of childhood friends.
Staining the concrete,
beneath the souls of Timberlands.
We runnin.
Holding cold steel in our palms,
ducking Blue shirts, and black battons.
Hiding inside a womb of shadows,
never knowing, who's the friend, or who's the foe.
Just runnin.
With no where to go.
Seeking comfort in touch of decete.
A boy in mans form.
A girl in womans form kneels at his feet,
Sucking his youth from within.
We runnin.
From schools to liquor stores.
To a crate on the sidewalk, we societies whores,
on societies stroll.
They know!
We runnin!
With no place to go, so they feed us,
the crumbs from the pie on their plate, just enough,
to keep us runnin closer too our fate
a wooden box or a prison gate.
We all runnin.
Chasing the same thing.
reality confused with dreams.
In a daze of haze smoke, we can't hear
the children scream, for truth
and guidence, until they too join this race,
to erase their freedom of choice.
In a race to erase, an entire race.
We runnin.
From our own reflections.
We runnin.
From ourselves.
Like mice we inhabit these jail cells.
The weak and injust, pass judgement from
a stolen thrown.
Their gavels, rob the youth of innocence.
Their sentences destroy homes.
But we're still runnin.
Runnin from what?
We have no greater enemy then US.
We have no one to trust, but US.
We have nothing but us us us us ... 

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