{to be read aloud, in spoken word form}

 

A mass-televised world that isn't real

Where journalism is meant to hide and conceal

I stick with my roots to get me through

Because what I know to be true

Is few.

 

Fashion design opened my eyes to ugly

That it's not all glamour, fame, and beauty.

And I wish I could see

All the girls like me

Killing themselves

Slowly

Ever so slowly

Just to express themselves freely.

 

By the time I was old enough to know

By the time I had enough time to grow

It's really who you know

Not what you know.

 

A year or two passed "Undecided"

because it wasn't by my own gut

Sweat

Intuition

Heart

that I abided,

A year or two passed before I knew

I knew just what it was I wanted to do.

 

Though my major isn't Public Relations,

I knew I had to give into communciations.

And I'll tell you why:

 

I live my full life as an underrepresented minority,

APIs stereotyped on media as the media

Goes scot-free.

But I also grew up in that same tradition

Where feminism wasn't in full bloom

Where I felt the sting of male privilege

Because I was born of the other gender

And I had to plant the seeds of knowing

Knowing

Always knowing

I had to rise as a leader.

Even if I didn't want to be.

 

Dubious means that promise quick drops,

Getting labeled cool and "hip hop",

The competitors will feign their plastic

"Thirsty", "salty", "illest", "ratchet",

But you know they vie for the attention

That not even their brand can mention.

 

I can't be like them,

Drawing myself to meet the same ends

That see the ends of civilizations

And wilt away with their faces.

 

Those trends that negate progression

Are the lessons behind my transgressions.

My passion is in my infliction, 

Because I know one day

One day

And that one day will be swift

And soon

I, and everyone

Will challenge the social dichotomies

To end the universal tyranny.

 

My brand is myself,

And I protect that with the full force

Of myself.

I represent no one

But me.

Me and my comrades

In the struggle.

I am no one's everyday man.

I am no one's quickdraw marketing scheme.

I am no one's pitching tool.

I am made from my own dreams

My own ideals, my own realities,

Molded and haunted by a life

That only bore me strife

And suffering. 

Of humanity and principality, 

Of want and need,

Of oppression and progression,

Of matriarchal feminity,

Of compassion and empathy,

And knowing fully well,

Fully well

That the necessity of the human condition

Is beyond my physical being.