© Jessica Freeman: There are No Bird's in the hood. No pretty flowers for them to pollinate. Only seems to be shadows of forgotten laughter ringing out in the lowest form of an echo. Colors have left the trees that we so often called fall in an April breeze. There are No bird's in the hood. I have seen time share a color are two on a pretty girl walking only to stumble just to look up once and tie her shoe. Green & dead broken things I have never grown a custom to. That's my view all I can tell is what I see.'
Truth be my eyesight There are No bird's in the hood.