What if? (Poem)

I'm from Brooklyn
Brooklyn...
We go hard, yeah yeah yeah
We go...........
Nowhere.

I'm from Brooklyn
But I could've moved to Staten Island

Staten Island
We go...?
Shopping?
Ha, it's sad but true.

Yet there's more to it than that.
There's more to it than shopping
There's more to it than rich girls
There's more to it than guido boys

There's...music.
Music that makes me.
Music that fills my soul and takes over my fingers
Music that can't be described through the sounds it makes
But the feeling it stirs
That's Staten Island.

I could've moved to Staten Island.

I always wonder though
How life would be if I was not
FROM Brooklyn anymore
Brooklyn
Where I have to stay inside
Brooklyn where I need to triple lock my doors
Brooklyn where if I am out passed nine, the cops should be ready for a phone call
Brooklyn that place where I am hidden
Brooklyn...Where I am no one

You want friends here? I'm sure you'll find them if you're yourself.
But me, I could never be MY-Self. Because myself does not go hard.
And I can't GO NOWHERE.
I NEED to GO
To Staten Island.

Staten Island
Where I learn to sing
Where I meet my dreams
Where I open up and find myself
Passed a curfew of 9...10...11
Twelve...
Staten Island
Those mazed out roads
Never make me feel like I'm lost
But this damn Brooklyn Grid looks so entangled in it's corners

I'm from Brooklyn
They go hard, yeah, so I've heard
I could've moved to Staten Island
But I go...nowhere...
Yeah, yeah....yeah...