If I were blind, I could feel it in their speech,
the words that enter my mind as if it were dull.
If I were deaf, and I could not hear their preach,
I could feel it in the stares driving through my skull.
Community College: The gum on the bottom of higher education's shoe,
a place for kids who did not, and will not, ever try.
Somewhere that students go because their parents want them to,
and a place where I, confined, simply want to cry.
Talk to me like my twenty years were not wasted,
treat me like I have pursued all that was presented to me.
Realize that my homework was not copied and pasted,
understand that struggle has given me the gift to see.
An empty pocket is what kept me home,
there was no slacking in my education.
I was not afraid to go off alone,
my soul craved the liberation.
I climbed up to be pushed back down,
your job is not supposed to encourage me to stay.
Nothing will keep me on the ground
, not even if you talk to me that way.
If you could take one second to open your scholar mind,
you will realize I am not of the sleep-through-class kind.