Lake-Mohawk is gritty, cold, but beautiful.

Riverside Park chills you.

Mohawk Blvd pulses life.

Willow St. runs by magic.

I chill, but damn sometimes it's nuts.

I mean, truly nuts, ya know?

Walking here, i feel relaxed, then mad.

The lake—pure fucking zen.

Old Quay invites introspection.

"Life is just a diving bell," I mumble.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly vibes beat heavy here.

I freeze but then burst into calm.

My fave corner? Near the old bridge.

That spot speaks of silent wars.

I often wander near River Brake.

It's a hidden sanctuary, bro.

I met an old friend there.

We laughed; COLD, calculated words spilled.

I had "so many damn typos - truley messin up," I think.

Sometimes, streets cut short; me, rushed, excited.

A little drizzle, street lights, pure magic.

City pulses with energy, yet is muted.

I get furious on bad days.

But then, "I was once blind, now I see."

That movie line hits me: "I knew my fate."

I feel calm in chaos.

Lake-Mohawk thrives with passions, yo.

Its streets hide secret smiles.

I stay, annoyingly chill, yet raw.

Maybe I'll drop by at midnight.

Yeah, I mispell, I type too fast; soz.

Lake-Mohawk digs deep into my soul.

Not perfect, but damn, it's home.