The kids, they’re all white
They say they can write
They say that they’ll knock you dead.
But I don’t believe—
You know what I’ve seen?
The way that it’s all in their head:
Screaming and scratching and bawling for tragedy
Distorted from something pretend
They’ll make you bleed in the nose and the knees
To say that they saw it first-hand
They can’t make me see past my garden wall
But they can’t see past theirs
How did they build their own pedestal?
The rubble that once was their peers.
And me, I’m all white
Like those dumb kids I write
And pretend I have something to prove
And some days I think
It’s not worth this sink
Nothing you’ve read here is new.