Obscure

Some nights, I stand out on

my balcony and look past

The allyway and homes,

with their cluttered yards and

broken fences.

I ignore the smells, the screams,

and loud music of the ghetto.

I pretend the light doesn’t obscure

the sky and look up

to imagine the thousands

of stars

and the places beyond,

the skies I’ll never see,

and the home I never had.

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