the loud rican music playing from mini hondas driven by boricuas
breaking the necks of those young girls awaiting to grow up
awaiting for their insides to be ripped out and to be able to yell the various names of those running the corners
not knowing that the day that will happen will be the last day of their lives.
Im from the swaying back and forth on the race to reach the sky
become high but only enough to reach their dreams
little kids at the park trying to get away from the problems at home
Im from the sound of words of pain being thrown by my parents because they no longer love each other
or do they
they leave and come as they please and but they don't realize that they hurt me and him
the little five year old about to start kindergarden, being left confused on why ?
the sound of slamming doors because maybe if its slammed hard enough then maybe the problems will die down and be left alone not brought up anymore so that they can return to their daily lives.
I am from the sound of the ball bouncing in his finger tips being passed dribbled, and shot only to miss
Miss the life he coulda had if he had just left it alone
not went looking for trouble
not went looking for a taste of his own medicine
and in the end only left to lay on a wheelchair for the rest of his life
if only he woulda walked away maybe
but you see in this place their is no maybe's nor are their any what if's or any second chances
you either move on to bigger and better things or you're stuck here for the rest of your life
you either leave behind the sound of gun shots at the park while you hear the sirens int he distant
you either leave or your stuck here wondering if maybe one day that person being taken away int he stretcher will be you
you either leave or you sit here and wonder what could have been of you if you had left.