“This is where I was born. This is where I live. This is suppose to be my home. And this is suppose to be where I die….”
I’ve said those words once before. Here I am sitting on the clouds up in the sky looking down at the place where I first entered the world. It was a nice view of it from up high, but down in it would change terribly. I called this place my home town before, but how could I call it a home & not be proud that it was my home? The nice view from above became so deceiving when moving closer to it’s grounds. I remember looking at the sign….
A place to be another some “body” found taken by the streets. Its a small world in the little state of Delaware. And the city of Wilmington is an even more smaller & wretched world alone.
Wait…I can see it right now. A man holding a gun towards another man demanding for his belongings. And even after he gave everything up, he still shoots him. And then over there….a shootout happening in the streets. The police are gonna be late to get there for sure. Look at those women over there, putting their bodies out there like a play toy. Wait, whats happening over there? Two people in an alley way fighting over some sored of white stuff. I see a drive by shooting happening. Why were those children out there in the middle of it & not indoors? They never stood a chance. And over there, men & women holding pieces of cardboard with a message saying “Homeless please help”. Are they truly in need of help? Or are they in need of more drugs in their system?
Who could say in a strong firm voice that they are proud to be from here? Who could really be proud to have been that “somebody” who was no different from the common “somebody”? A criminal, a drug addict, a murderer, all the things that make it vague to why one would ever want to represent a place he’s suppose to call “home”.
The struggle to live couldn’t be any harder. They say its our own fault that our lives are like this. Just look at the difference between the past & the present. Our ancestors fought with all their blood, sweat, & tears for freedom. Life was far worser for them than it is for us. Yet, they were organized. They had a purpose to fulfill for all of our people, & for all humans to live in equality. Now look at us. Fighting against our own selves, disorganized, ruined, as if all their work was wasted.
Need I mention children having children? Hormones taking control of the youth greatly, never thinking about the consequences for their actions, living in the satisfaction of the moment at hand & not the effects behind it. Giving birth when not prepared forcing the precious new life to face a life of hardships. Children out here following all the wrong steps just to earn a title & be known. No proper guidance to prevent it.
I don’t even turn on the news. Why should I? To stay updated on the latest murders & crimes committed? From men & women shot & killed, to kids & babies killed, robberies, just why must this be? I kid you not, everyday theres always a crime reported. Oh yes there are plenty more worser cities out there. But they’re all no different from each other besides being more dangerous than another via criminal activity. And by it meeting the dangerous expectation, its no wonder why cops are more ready to pull the trigger by means of “self defense”.
I had a fear for guns. I thought they were one of the main reasons why its so dangerous here. But thats when it hit me. A gun has no thought, no brain. But the one who wields it does. Or do they truly? Guns don’t kill, people kill. And thats an even greater fear to me. A person I am to call a “brother” would give such weapon of destruction its mind. The gun doesn’t see, you do. The gun doesn’t know who’s hit, you do. And the gun is nothing without a wielder to trigger it’s abilities. The gun has no power unless you give it. And in this “home”, its been given so much power.
And its just over & over again. Its no end to this madness. But its how life here is, in any place like this.
How could I ever say I’m proud that this was my home? Its the very reason why society stereotypes my kind because of the skin. The reason why my kind is said to be a “failing” race. The reason why America’s own law enforcers & “protectors” are quick to destroy our lives or even end it. That is, if we don’t ourselves before them. Why else you think there are drug & liquor stores filled in this community?
My city is in distress but nobody wants to be saved. Instead, we save ourselves from continuing this life by ending ourselves just as they expected.
How long am I to stay in this wretched place? Until it brings about the end of me? Have I done something wrong to deserve living here where life goes away in the measure of bullets? My life is still only beginning, but I’ve seen far enough of this way of life. Its like I’m fighting for it without even doing any fighting. Every time I go outside, the risk of going away for good is always there around every corner. Its an unpredictable world out there.
But the risk is not even just for me. Its for everyone that lives here thats either a part of the reason why its wretched, or apart from the reason. I can only hope & pray I make it out while being apart from it all. I can only hope & pray that anyone thats apart from it will make it out of here. My family, my friends, the poor souls that are tired of all this chaos in the streets, I wish for us all to live the way we rightfully deserve.
I will not let my city put my life in distress along with it. I will not let it take me.