Summer of Violence

Last summer I saw candles being lit.

They were for the three boys

who took their last breath of air

on Genesee Street.

The bodies are piling up.

Around every corner you see candles.

Around every corner another kid is getting dropped.

In my city streets are filled with pain

because it is the “Ghetto Blood” that runs through our veins.

In my city the kids are so in love with the street life,

that at one point they have been held at gun point.

Glocks strapped to their waist

like a soldier ready for war.

But you can still see the look in their eyes and

they’re hungry for some more.

Some of us used to believe in god

but that went out the window

when at least one person in our life got shot up.

In my city is a blank space.

We’ve become so accustomed to the fast money

selling dope is the new fast lane.

Blood runs through the streets in my city.   Young boys trying to be down

and next thing you know, front page headlines.

His momma’s puttin’ him in the ground.

Facebook stats going up saying

“RIP You Left Too Early.”

In my city it’s to the point

where we have to get on our knees

and say a prayer before we leave to walk these streets.

In Rochester, New York we’re born

And raised in the streets.

Murder capital.

We have to be careful when we walk in these