World known Talent exploiter,
Production giant, beauty harvest,
Canvas for the earth’s most prestigious artist and Uncle Sam's Pride and joy;
Crafted, Perfected, Neglected,
The Scarlet curtain covered horror.

Relentless as the lights reflecting elegance, a facade for the unjust reality that my city fosters.
For you will struggle to drive 5 minutes without the sight of deprivation pricking your heart,
And you will inhale the air; exhaling memories of the innocence it once was known for.
Your throat will tighten as you come across a dog, exiled in the shadow of steel colossus,
Hiding from the people that betrayed him.
And at the sight of man, life consumed by intoxication, drug, and regret, your heart will skip a beat in sorrow.

I know that my city shelters twisted inequalities,
And I know that my city's most welcoming home is the streets.
I know that my city does not provide for all,
And I know that my city denies many a place to rest.
But my passion for my city remains inexhaustible; as I know that through hardships, and through brutality,
An adrenalized culture forms.
A vibrant, rambunctious culture, fueled by distress. Without pain, there is no passion. And aren't those the blessings and the curses that define Los Angeles?

Whether the tear in my eye is in gratitude of its wonder, or a craving for the city I once knew;
Through all of the distortion that is poverty, addiction, and pollution, I see the city I always have and will always love.