In the streets of  L.A.

I walk the parts full of shade.

Even when the sun is up high

there are people left to die.

But people are blinded by the glamour

when they relate LA to Hollywood.

No one seems to care

about the people's despair.

They hear of death and troubles

but they eliminate the thought like bubbles.

People like me and my family

dont live the LA fame and glory.

Our streets are rugged and rough

and people run with guns.

We are the browns, blacks, and asians

People of various nations.

Not the blonde and blue eyes.

Not the people whose lives are nice.

We are the ones who strive to survive

and we are living with death while we are alive.

Our money does not come easily.

Our lives dont go by breezily.

But no one thinks of us

more than once

because we are the shadows of LA.

They call us its ugly face.

Hidden and oppressed,

we dont care about how we dress,

What matters is our freedom

but people see us as dumb.

That shall no longer be.

I want them to see

our harsh reality

and diverse ethnicities.

We are part of LA.

We are here everyday.

We dont live in the tourist sights.

We reflect the real light.

We represent what is really here,

not what TV wants you to hear

about what goes on in this glorified city,

and outsiders remain deceived.

We have the gunshots, the stabbings, the deaths,

the cocaine, the weed, the ecstasy, the meth.

But we take them until we reach our deaths,

and we struggle each time for every breath.

But this is the LA no one cares for,

where death is constantly knocking at our doors.

Thank the world, thank our country, thank the people,

for leaving us behind and hidden in our deep holes.

That we exist, people know,

but we're something they choose to ignore.

There are two LAs

that reside in the same geographic place,

but there is much to seperate

the two worlds of LA.