“nobody love us back.”

You can see the tears in his eyes, and his momma probably cryin’.

He just wanna stay alive but,

Black boys die to often where he resides.

Streets marked up with chalk.

No hopscotch.

Bodies sprawled out on the cement.

Out to dry.

He witnessed it with his young eyes.

He watched his cousin die,

He held his brother in his arms as his soul was headed to the sky.

Our black boys are witnesses.

To killer cops, or black boys that say it’s nothing personal,

“it’s strictly for the business”

The hood doesn’t love you back.

But shit, neither does America, when you’re black.

So where are our kids safe at?

Has anybody found our girls?

(That’s a question for another poem...)

You can see the tears in his eyes.

And if his daddy is around he probably cryin.

But I highly doubt it cause he lying.

Said he wanna come and see him but ain’t even tryin’.

Just like a nigga.

Always “trying”,

Never doing.

Excuse my language,

But, keep your dick inside your pants if you ain’t ready to be a man.

Cause that’s what these kids need.

Back to the topic...

You can see the tears in eyes.

He just wants somebody to love him back.

He just wanna make some extra money.

So, he’s out here tryna sell a couple packs.

Through the wire’s where this boy has been.

He knows Jesus walks, but he still lives in sin.

The fast, easy route.

To help his momma pay the rent so she keeps the house.

He seen it all before 15.

Ain’t have no time to be a kid now he a teen.

Graduated to selling crack from hoop dreams is what it seems.

In the streets from sunrise to sundown, he got used to that...

That’s how it really is when nobody loves you back.