So many years in black hooded streets
walking on through the heat
awkward beats, backstabbing creeps
it took too much outta me
ambition reduced to unsatisfied dreams
The boot on my throat is this city
always wanting to run away but never having the guts to leave
There ain't nothing from here I want to take
junkie days, helpless friends pointing fingers of blame
desperate love inspiring false faith
believing to be safe
promiscuous reputations, subjection of hate
actions causing me to crack but not break
Wouldn't you want to escape?
Through the rhythm of ink pens and red lips
fight my way out of this
there ain't much left of me
but nonetheless I still got something
to get the away from this pit
It took too much outta me but it didn't take everything
I still got the scars with your stories behind it
but I'm still walking on through
Will I miss this, will I miss you someday?
Do I miss the decades blossoming mis-shapes,
alienation and hate?
There ain't nothing I want to take
Keep my youth, my struggling teenage waste
let that sink in and take everything from you
swallow you out of place the way it nearly did me
I'll be walking on through from this
Celeste is a graduate from the College of Creative Studies from UCSB. She is currently in the process of pursuing her Master of Fine Arts and continues to write predominately about growing up in an American culture with Mexican roots.