Lonely willows billow through pouring rain.
Wash me clean, replenish my roots.
Green leaves turn gray from the same smog that turns church boys into Dope kings
Junkie whore dancing on cracked sidewalks, dried skin under blackned nails
Corner boys, in trap houses singing love songs, "Baby baby won't you be mine"
Memory.
Lost ancestors trying to reconnect with a memory that too often almost feels foreign