seeming a part of the scene

serence yet mean, inner city dreams

painting pictures of porches and torches

learning to see how others see me

seeming so

dark (feel flowing seas, forest greens)

hard (baggy harem seams around my knees)

stark (the exposition of my condition)

a conscious composition of a dream

not femme, fragile, or familiar

just me.



backpack slung over my shoulder like a soldier

actions are bolder and colder in the hallway of the

institution of the students

they sweep us through like dust

'in God we trust'

as if 4 years is enough 

for some to deicde they just wanna get high

we reply with a sigh that our days slip by

graduation is just a cloud in the sky

we know it's there but not why and we're

just trying to get by

so smoke some loud when you're thoughts are louder

of only trying to make mom prouder.



what about misfits

sittin' in lit class

sit and listen to the ticks pass

wait for that

slick ticket

gift wrapped

only sountrack the

swish of the Amtrak

slip out,

skip town,

you'd never look back.

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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