Westwood

Walking down the streets of

Westwood

Noticing the grass grow

With the flowers and the trees and the

Gangs

 

The waters rush

Where the fish and the frogs covering the

Gunshots

When you notice they’re gone you hear

Race cares

 

I wish I could rise to the tope

Of the willow trees

Where the binds rest and the ran is

Caught or the

Gravity walls where there’s loothing

Of lyaers of white paint but the

Colorful one wont go away

 

“Please” I get with puppy

Eyes and tears running down

My red face

Nothing can stop me from living here

In Westwood

Not the money

Or the drugs

Or even the guns

 

This is my home

The one I grew up in

Terrified and fighting

For the rights we need

I am proud of it

-Lilia Duran

This poem makes me...
  • Think (67%)
  • Smile (0%)
  • Somber (0%)
  • Surprised (0%)
  • Feel a Connection (0%)
  • Inspired (33%)