Sitting down reminiscing the time.
When our life's use to be defined as to.
Searching pipes and running from crimes.
When childrens stare you could hardly bare.
Why is it not fair?
That we don't help for care?
Another day by, mother not knowing why?
Her child got shot by the FBI.
Puff, Puff high in the hood.
A child going thru another day with no food.
Girls showing of their legs.
to get paid, while getting laid.
Now she beggs and prays.
Not to have AIDS.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem