"Whispers of the Streets

Neither England nor New York own these streets. Individuals in the complex smell, not because flowers make up the complex. My icy heart is ripped apart by them. It makes my tightly closed lips smile. My shoes have been worn by the soil on this same ancient street. not dissimilar to New Jerusalem or the Romans. It's quiet old, but it sounds good to me. I see these folks smiling, but I know that their hearts are hurting. I still want to be here, on these streets, praising them. They help me realize that I relate to them on a personal level. The atmosphere and noises produce an anomaly. They are not revered, modeled after, or adoredbut I'd like to hear about their own narrative and methods. To me, their conversations are like a whisper. It is from this same street where love and life have begun.Even though they are despised, that is where the paths to achievement began. These streets still hold our memories even though they are aware of the longing and anger that exist in our souls. Ask the street for advice from the ancestors, and they will share their accomplishments and glories. Inquire about my acquired knowledge, and I will share the marvels of my local street.