One Ghetto Metaphor

Wastelands, cavities.
Peppered too coarsely , too densely.
Neglected, ignored like they’ll just go away.
Hidden and forgotten about on behalf of the minority.
And they fester, like an untreated wound.
Pockets of pain and desolation, left to war from within
So that they will not spill over into the precious pockets of pleasure.
Left to compete; to self-thin.
Only given enough help, so it doesn’t feel like a sin.