The Unwatched Neighbourhood Poem by Emmanuel Arunee Mwanza

Winds blowing,
Papers littered all over,
Empty tins turn to be the drums heard,
It's all noisy
No one cares
No one really cares like seriously
For this street
It is left like that
Uncared for
Some just call this side of the town the unwatched neighbourhood
It's where the government think of last
And where people do their black market business
From drugs to guns
But no one seems to care
This unwatched neighbourhood, its where, at night girls turn to be women
Seeking survival
And... just behind that corner
I heard cries
It was a woman being raped
but nobody cared
Like the way no one watches over this street
It is left to crumble
No one cares
No one really cares like seriously
For this street
It is like no one lives there during the day
Come night, what you see you can't believe
But it remains the unwatched neighbourhood
Gun shots are heard in the night, you can't tell which direction
But nobody cares
Everybody watches not what's on the street
Its all about money
Maybe I should say survival
But this street, like seriously needs eyes everywhere
but they call it the unwatched neighbourhood
A place boys became men
A place girls transform in just minutes
It is not a safe haven for their children
But who cares?
Even them, who live there don't!
Surviving is all they teach their children
Some of their children listen
Some don't but they all survive on what ever they do
Others leave, and come back bosses
They come back for their families
Some leave, and come back bosses
They come to find their youth-hood friends gone
Others dead,
Yet nothing has changed in this neighboourhood
Same old stories
Poverty,
Hunger,
Diseases,
Drug abuse,
Death,
But life goes on
In this part of the town
Where not even the government cares
It is at times the ghost neighbourhood perhaps
For it seems forgotten
Like a very old old story that used to be passed on by generations
Of which at some point it was lost
But people still live
They thrive and succeed anyway
In the unwatched neighbourhood