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The outskirts of the city of Detroit

You can call me Blue…

There are a lot of stereotypes surrounding my home in regards to those who live here. Illiteracy, waste of potential… gang violence and every other negative input regarding the outskirts of the city of Detroit. Most of which are true. Yet, I have made it a point to tell you just how much people have overlooked what little good lies here. And just how much it pains me to see this little light of ours fade. For there are so many creative lives hidden within the shadows of this broken city.

I do not anticipate acknowledgement, nor do expect support. I only need a moment to voice my thought and story.

If I am to truly say, I have lived near decrepit buildings for all of my life. Abandoned streets are normal to us. The sight of torn buildings overgrown with vegetation is only a sight of acceptance for what has gone.

The findings of a dead body or two is a normal everyday occurrence. So is the mention of robbery and rape. It is always important to keep a weapon on you when going outside. Out of the eleven family members I have, seven of them have been robbed.

Four out of seven had also been kidnapped and/or raped before.

Now, here is the problem. Just like I mentioned before, there are a lot of wonderful people stuck here, my family included. There have been smart children I have known in the past who never got a chance to see today. Half of them are dead. Others have gone missing. Some managed to live their lives here, or found the slim opportunity of leaving this city.

There’s no telling when the reaper will claim our souls.

So, if you decide to stay in the outskirts of Detroit; the side no one would dare put on T.V., sleep with a locked door and a weapon at your side. Other than that, find a safer place downtown.

And know that you have the power to leave, unlike me.

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