Young black boys from the "Hood".

Raised to be bad forget the good, often misunderstood,

As their life has been different from yours

And I still feel the pain,

Even when these black men and young boys are slain, Slain by the people that momma said would protect you,

When all they have done is wreck us, wreck your world, and your brain,

I've never been the same since Michael,Travyon, and Tamir

When that tear dropped from their momma's eyes, I knew that our community would keep them alive

The hood was made for us, by who? the ones who recite "in god we trust" to that all-american flag

That when we refuse to sing the National Anthem, we are stupid and seen as bad

The hood, The hood, it's the life of a thug ,

the ones who were made no good

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world


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