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Broken Glass and Citrus.
Along the path of broken glass
Linger the scents of mango and lime.
Along the streets I call my own
Are crime infested ghetto and
Ghost towns filled with survivors
The aromas of mango and lime tingle
Within soft whispers of the breeze
Along the path of broken glass is ginger
And the lulling of Ackee trees.
It is two o' clock in the morning.
What I fear miles down the road is frightening.
The concrete jungle I call my home terrorizes itself.
I am locked inside my house for safety.
I am lost beneath a nation's hard tiled lies.
I hear "boom, boom, boom!"
I hear the sound of shots
In minutes another middle aged woman
Will be bawling in the middle of Red Hills Road.
I feel the coldness of a tropical climate.
I sense that there is no longer regard for humanity.
I smell the poison suffocating paradise.
I want to run away from this place.
The citrus chases me
While the unavoidable scent of mango and lime
Lies heavily on my chest.
I try to go to sleep
But aggressive thoughts won't pardon me rest.
