Graffiti covers the walls of the place that we call "The barrio" cop sirens sound in the distance we have a young Hispanic teen in a blue a shirt, black pants heading east. Ambulance can be heard as a community is hit by the death of another young Hispanic teen the mother cries out into the heavens above. This is what we go through jornaleros get shot in the head twice by cops tees get pulled over for being bald having baggy clothes, living in this run down barrio your forced to get an education or join a gang because you want to be someone. Most of us don't even graduate high school or even make it to college either because of the family or the people you call brothers and you end up behind bars buts its times like these that you reflect on you actions sitting alone in this prison cell. You get out of the prison you called a home for 2,3,10 years life is hard to live your record is marked with a stamp that will never come off. But behind all this darkness there is a light a light that is the strong connection of family and the push to be someone. Your mom's always hoping that you will come back alive and staying up late for your return until the next morning. The father always telling you son, daughter give up and don't prove the stereotypes. Leave this barrio and get your own life because this life is not for you your better than this. There is that support and Hispanic you should never let go. this place is L.A. the home of the Hispanic root "la raza" this is our casa.