My hood

I feel like a spectator roaming in the hood, but looking as it through the outside. All my close friends falling down like tree leaves in Fall. Some fall into drug addiction, others drop school, and some become lost and traumatize to the point they can’t function no longer with others. I can’t believe I’m still standing. It feels as if I’m untouchable, as if I am running down No Man’s Land without a single shot touching me, it is that unbelievable. But the further I march, the lonelier it becomes, and that harder it is to stand. Sometimes I want to throw the towel and raise the white flag, sometimes I just want to give down and cry. But I can’t, my life has molded me strongly and ruggedly it makes it impossible for me to give in and lay down to cry. Instead, a rage of persistence drowns me and brings out an unimaginable strength that turns me superhuman against my environment. Everyday I’m reminiscing, everyday I feel helpless, but here I am, stilling moving, still struggling forward; and I hope that when it is my time to rest, to die, I have gained, I have deserved the right to rest in peace, because I know I have done something for the better good of all, for the better good of the future.