A City Turned Apart

The sound of gunfire is deafening in the centre of my city, a place that was once alive with laughter and vitality. Every day, the ceaseless barrage of gunfire snuffs out lives and crushes hopes, leaving the streets a bleak symphony of violence.

Ghost towns, formerly vibrant neighbourhoods that have been reduced to empty shells and are haunted by the memories of those who once called them home, are all over the place.

The air is thick with fear, which smothers optimism and leaves despair in its wake. The evils that afflict our streets do not spare even the youngest among us. Growing up, they become as familiar with the sound of gunfire as they are with the sound of their own heartbeat.

op and crackle a sombre warning of the perils waiting to be discovered right outside their door.

Young men are drawn into gangs by the promise of power and affiliation, where they are trained to become armed combatants in an unending struggle against the forces of law and order. They prowl the streets like shadows, intimidating anyone who dares stand in their way. Uninvolved individuals find themselves in the crossfire of a conflict they did not choose to engage in.

Fathers lament the passing of girls whose laughter will never again be heard, while mothers grieve for boys lost far too soon. With every day that goes by, more people become victims of the vicious cycle.

However, there are other evils in our city than the scourge of guns. Another threat waits in the shadows, waiting to take advantage of the weak and the desperate. Drugs poison our young people's blood, transforming bright prospects into desolate environments of addiction and hopelessness.

Thus, we end up captives in our own houses, victims of the violence that prowls our streets, caught up in a nightmare of our own creating. We yearn for relief, for a ray of light to show us the path out of the darkness that could swallow us whole.

A war where the law of the gun is the sole rule, oh my city, you who once shone as a ray of hope and promise. How I weep for the dreams that lie crushed at our feet, and for the innocence lost.

Nevertheless, there is still a glimmer of hope, a tiny spark of resistance that won't go out in the middle of the mayhem and sorrow. We hope for a day when there will be peace again and children's joy will fill the streets instead of gunfire.

Oh, my city, you who were once a beautiful place to live, but now our hearts quake at the very mention of you. When will you be able to let go of violence and hopelessness?

How I look forward to the day when our children can grow up without the fear of death hanging over their every move and we can stroll your streets fearlessly once more.

When I was younger, I recall walking down your streets to get to school and back, telling my parents about all of my accomplishments as I went through your streets.

ou were my home from the time I was young to now. However, your children have changed, and I can hardly recognise you anymore. As the days go by, this terrifies me more and more.

My siblings, my little pals, and I have all become bad. Will this terrible disease and anguish ever go away? How I want to see the real you, to hug you once more, and to feel secure.

adored you so much, however my parents are relocating to another city so they can study there out of fear. I hope all is well with you. so that I could confidently tell them that I want to stay here and complete my studies with you, Oh City, and that I'm not leaving.