It’s lonely out, nearly desolate in this big city today... Its
light out...It's Christmas but the crack heads still gather in front of my
mothers building (that’s’ right, this is what its like; 10001, one of the
wealthiest zip codes on earth but these are the projects) like a flock of
pigeons... They wait for a pusher... They look desperate... They mistake me for
one... Used to that... I'm disgusted and express it on my face... It
translates... They give me way... There is Art in reality... I feel no shame…
This is life brother...
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