By

                                             Jamil Barnes 

You hear the jungle creed of teens that bleed, for a fulfilled   

life with no hope. Where young girls cry because they waste

devour their feast and destroy the little ones souls. Where

Junkies cringe-on-a-can-heat binge and find their graves in the

Snow. O cry out, cry out, from what closet do these things

Come, bringing rebellious confusion and a hopeless tongue.

where dreams are made and dreams may go, conceive by heroin

and others such as coke. For the dreams that I had which will

never last my eyes still hunger for more. Where sex appeal strike,

and devours the lives, and destroy every man soul. For you hear

the shouts of the in crowd roaring like thunder saying come along

knowing in your heart that you’re not one of them.