My City

If you came to my city,
You wouldn't hear
A robin chirping
As she nests in the trees.
You would hear
The wild, tangled coos
Of furious pigeons fighting
Over a hard piece of bread.

If you came to my city,
You wouldn't hear
The sound of silence
In the morning.
You would hear car horns,
People yelling, dogs barking,
And the occasional
Cat screech.

Yep, my city
Is noisy, loud, and unfair,
But it's my home
And what I grew up with.

Though it maybe be tough,
Mean and hard
It will always be
My city.

Reina Samuels
Washington, D.C.
from Paint Me Like I Am