The Streets


United States
37° 37' 37.2936" N, 122° 2' 58.7472" W

There’s a rhythm that haunts me.

Ssssssssssssouth Siiiiiiide,
And die.

I hate the color blue,
I hate the color red.
My eyes are blue,
My blood is red.
I hate myself.

“Keep a look out”,
Call if you need me…

The bullet that passed between a child’s eyes,
As he walked with me to school…
His blood pooled around my feet
The knife that took another’s life,
Before he could call for a ride home…
His blood pooled inside my heart

I’ve seen so many…
Moments of stillness
And fear.

Close my eyes tightly,
I have so many nightmares.
Screaming for a family that was never there.
Failing in a system,
Where I am a number,
Never a person.

“Silly naïve little bitch!”

Scars on my body,
Bruises covering my arms,
Broken bones,
Crushed lungs-
Crying for myself,
And praying for something…

…I never learned the word…

As I lay upon ashes,
Starring at scattered dreams across the darkness,
With my blue eyes.
Even if I am lonely,
We are all so lonely

Waiting for,
A strong, yet tender hand to hold onto mine…
When I am no longer in need of soothing…
No longer lonely…

A time when a child will walk with no fear,
No bullets between eyes.
A time when the streets when represent,
Do not murder us themselves.
We are not just statistics.

The streets play a rhythm that’s haunting,
Chorused with screams,
And bullets,
Before silence.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741