I'm a mentally challenged version of a normal black (sometimes Hispanic, but only when I'm filling out scholarship applications) teenage boy... I mean... man. I know this isn't in stanzas like you want it to be, but honestly, that's what I came here for. I'm typing these letters in a box as we speak... I mean as we type...I mean... as I type. I like to pretend that the bags under my eyes are really just my skin smiling. I like to pretend that I'm doing just fine, but honestly, this creates clouded objects that come back to attack me in my nightmares. I can't run, for even in my nightmares, I am in a box. The more I run, the faster they get. But I can't stop. Do you see my contradiction? Do you see the pain of being human? Do you see that even the clouds in the skies would like to be white forever, but they have to become gray and fall someday. And honest of the honestly, I don't even know if I really wanna attend college. I just happen to come across this opportunity to voice my... I mean our opinion. right?