Eatin' Good in the Neighborhood

A Poem by otter

Gunshots literally at your door, just 5 minutes after your mom says,"No, you can't go out to play." Coming home to an ambulance outside your building, blood on the steps. Some guy pushed a woman down the stairs, while she was holding a baby in her arms. Everyone talked about it for about a week, then forgot about it. Gunshots sounded out at least once a week, pistols some nights, automatic weapons on others. The baby standing at the second-story window, smiling and laughing one second, screaming and falling the next. Coming home from the bus-stop, side-stepping the cops who are putting handcuffs on yet another minor drug offender. A knock on the neighbor's door, followed by the screams of little girls. Two men, one with a gun, had held the family, a mother and her two daughters, neither older than six, at gunpoint while robbing them. Their door is one foot away. Teenagers smoking blunts, waiting for the bus. Teenagers selling weed, X, crack, waiting for the bust. Suburbia ain't got s**t on us!

It's Life..