Urban Manifestation

If we looked hard enough we could see. Something going on daily in the shadowed areas of the country. This routine. This time it's a man who cannot feed his seed. Welfare and food stamps cannot suffice, you see. And the nine to five is sucked dry before a penny can be spent freely. Screamed and screamed, this his seed, did proceed. Leaving this man tired and weary. For this man did not know how to quell his baby's crying and in any way help. Ambient circumstances drove this man to seek a temporary wealth. Even if that meant taking away another man's health. He excommunicated himself from himself. So he didn't take a second to pump the brakes and stop the confrontation. Now the police are calling confirmation of a body bag, all because of a righteous hesitation. And so ends another living gestation. Another life lost, and another closed casket funeral reception. How can there be hope when gunplay is the latest sensation? How can we keep dreaming in a country that needs rehabilitation? But, despite the protesting and demonstrating, we find our selves with a lack of funds. So we resort back to guns. These are not puns, this viscous cycle, this American menstruation. With death as the only compensation. And a people hoping they wont be the next star of the church congregation. With this fear, only spreading the urban manifestation.