A man sat down and wrote a poem /
Things that surround him , a boy and his home /
Of fighting dogs /
Gangs that roam /
Blood shed that flows /
Where bullets go /
Asinine lives but never gives /
Where money flows trough /
But never stays /
Leaving people only to gaze /
A place you must be somewhat crazy to survive /
I be your host /
No not why i post //
jimmy j
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