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This is my Neighborhood

Writer: Sammi MarieSammi Marie

outside the birds chirp

a passing car maybe.

the school children's laughter is short-lived,

as they are dropped off and picked up again and again.

silence until the bang

someones out there, yelling, crying, fighting.

its a neighborhood known for its bad history

when the red and blue start flashing

eyes are seen peaking out

before windows are pulled tightly shut.

blinds hang down hiding the stories inside.

as the fog clears something shines.

a dime, no.

a needle dropped carelessly into the bush.

will someone retrieve it?

not until it is seen and kicked off to the side.

the high school kids take the dirt path behind the brick building

unknowing of what the thick yet small forest holds.

and yet,

never enough fear to cause terror

but enough to lock doors and mind your own.

sirens, horns, and engines as people rush to work are quiet in short distance.

a moment maybe two.

that's all it takes before your in the middle of it.

for now, it's the last brick building on the road ending with a sharp narrow curve

around it is the school and secrets of other lives.

I've known for a year.

maybe a year once before.

never staying long enough to call it home.

but never leaving without a part of it.

 
 
 

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