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Poetry
Why, why, why?
By Annisa Afrah
 
We live in a highly complex community and in this area we have been hit with the
sorrows of street violence. Due to this, many have lost those who are dear to them.
Whether it be a brother, a son, a boyfriend or just simply a friend. When we strip
this problem of its state of affairs one question jumps to mind.
 
Why? Why would anyone want to take anotherís life? When they still have theirs.
Why would they fill the need to kill another black brother?
 
An endless question like why only leads to stray answers.
So why do we let others create this mythical One out of many?
 
Every day a life is taken away, so many tears have fallen because of this pain.
Blood shed from the youngest of the young. Bullet holes allow blood to fill their lungs.
Pain and suffering filled my brain.
 
Can someone tell me why a mother has to bury her
young black child, who could have been the next leader of this community?
What makes this community so different? That one can only pray for the best, For now.
 
When a person has the guts to kill another human being and rest their head on a pillow at
night, then expects to dream. The question is not why. But what we can do to make a change.
 
Does the problem begin with the fact that most of these young males do not
have fathers to look up to? Are all the absent fathers to blame for this anger that
has built up in our young males minds?
 
Shutting their hearts to love or they have been kicked out of school again and the rap lyrics
they seem to spit have been engraved into their hearts, trapping them leaving them no way out.
 
Questions only deepen the depression. Anger is not in the mistakes made, But in the silence that
has stolen many mouths. They feel deathís breath, breathing on their necks.
What if they worked so hard to never make it. What I talked non-violence and some kid
empties the clip, leaving me forever in silence. Itís the code of silence thatís known in the hood.
 
Do you dare to say a word? Living life like thieves at night. Unknowing that silence only makes
them slaves to the streets. This community now devoid of light, happiness and common love.
Sometimes I think this happiness can only be reclaimed but never reconstituted.
 
We all canít go back home again, only fix this new home. We all need to open our eyes;
sometimes the truth hurts more than a lie. So bring back peace and give me a reason to smile,
which I have deprived from the moment this community lost the definition of peace.