The place I call home

By Jada Gibbs

A place of safety but also hell

A separation of good guy and bad guy

But no ever wanted to come together

Pride in the way with guns

In they hands

 

A society within society

That our children had to survive in.

Dreaming of hope and a future to get away

Cuz war was the only way.

 

Seeing brother on the corner every morning to make ends

meet just so his family can eat.

Momma could never sleep

Because little Timmy started hitting them streets.

 

The place I call home

Our society was built on music that was foreign to them but

Culture to us.

GoGo.

 

The smelling of carryout on every corner

That had you craving but having

only lint, dimes, and nickels

in your pockets wasn’t enough

For Ma behind the glass that tax everything like she was related to Uncle Sam

You know Uncle Sam that take momma last every tax season.

 

Catching the bus to school every morning was like traffic on feet

You move to slow you get knocked over.

People running over you like the world is about to end

And there’s only one place of protection.

 

Babies crying in your ear and kids staring a hole in your face.

As if you were a reflection of her

or another image of her father.

Or his father or they father

Cuz all daddies were deadbeats

According to momma.

 

The train ride was like Interrogation.

Boys looking because you got the new J’s

And girls looking because boys looking

When you wasn’t even heading their way.

 

The place I call home.

Washington D.C.

The place I call home.

Where I survived D.C.

 

The place I call home.

Where I will never forget D.C. because

D.C. was its own society.

 

The place I call home.

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