My hometown

What is there to say about it really?

Broken homes and pregnant teens

Mothers working , father's drinking, the regular scenes

Young boys acting like wannabe thugs

Drug addicts ravaging the streets like wild dogs

We cursed at each other and fought for free water

Right by the same building they built for prayer

Dirt roads and rundown houses

Dark alleys, prostitutes in stolen blouses

There were nights I was woken by the screams

Of the terrified little kids

Fathered by my neighbour who beat his wife

Once, almost messed her up with a knife

Nobody ever came, everyone too busy with his own life

And always above it all,

The roar of airplanes flying low over our roofs,

ready to touch down in the airport not so close by

The screech of the metal train tracks, hovering above the streets like a hill,

Right where the sun set

The scream of the horn as the train approached fast

With more people on it than in it

not many people with a dime around here

I never figured how they even got up there

But then the occasional laughter

And friendly bargains over the counter

Even though everything sucks

New Year gets everyone smiling at the fireworks

Doors open at midnight over several blocks

Celebrations usually start down at the docks

And mothers pray for their daughters

sons protect their sisters

& neighbours still look out for each other

For whatever reason they do it, it doesn't matter

In a way, we have all always been quite in this together.

So,

What's there to say really?

Not much

Except maybe I would have picked a better hometown

Still, I wouldn't change how things really went down.