My Letter to Hip Hop

Dear Hip Hop

I miss you. I never realized how important you were to me, until the day you left. I mean.... i dont even remember when exactly you did leave. I just woke up and you were gone. Or maybe... just maybe, you left in spirit way before you left me physically. Please come back, I miss you. I miss the days when I was encouraged to write a rhyme after I heard a verse from the lastest mixtape i picked up. Remember the nights I would fall asleep with the headphones on listening to your sweet voice. I miss that. Now I fall asleep to singers, and at the most.. recordings of what you gave me when we were together. I remember when I couldnt do without you. I brought you on the bus and train with me. You were always in my car. Since the day I met you, I took you home and never let you go. We spoke the same language. Well... thats a given because you spoke every language. And although you meant so much to a lot of people... I knew you were made for me.

Why did you leave? Where did it go wrong? Was it when the dude from Brooklyn died. I know you guys were close friends but what about me? I need you. Even when you took trips to the South and the West Coast, I stayed. I would still write you letters and would listen to the messages you left for me. Why now? Why leave me now when I needed you most. Was it the money that changed you? Was it when your credit card had "No limit" and you were out hanging with them "Hot Boys". Is that when it died? Did you become so materialistic that you forgot your roots? Please come back home.

My Queens so many people fight over who is your king. You taught me a title is of no importance. Still that goes to show you how many people feen to be close to you. Where did we go wrong? Was your love switched for lust? I see videos of you now and damn baby the creativity has left you. All i see is ass and tits and while you know I love your ass and tits, I kinda miss when you left me wanting more. When you depicted beautiful pictures to go along with your songs, you kept my eyes glued to you.

Where are you? Please come home! You went from roaming the streets and you would think that after the tales of getting shot nine times you would learn from your mistakes. Now all you do is dance. Dance, snap, and talk such nonsense. Why baby? Is it my fault? I should have tried harder. Damn i should have never stopped writing you letters, instead I bragged on how much I didnt need to write. At times i said such nonsense. Or maybe it was the beats. Could it be that when the tables turned and Mic went away that I replaced your heartbeat for drum patterns. Maybe this muted your voice, hushed your cries, and forced you to forget who you once were. I miss you. Please come back home. No matter how much money you get or the mistakes you made..I am here. I love you and Im sorry.

Sincerely

Syn Sixteens