Minority Boy & A White Girl
I was never a part of the in-crowd.
Frequently misunderstood.
Floating away, and away, from
the unspoken traditions of the social kingdom.
"The last of a dying breed" as
SchoolBoy Q once remarked.
And yet, truly . . .
I always sought to be within, to use
others as a facade for my insecurities.
Looks will grant you the world.
Minority boy plus a white girl.
I'm better than you.
And one morning, I had died.
My heart broken, spewing short
bursts of whatever emotion I had left
for her.
The blood, coagulated, and vanished
into thin air.
All of myself, gone to waste.
Gone and gone forever, she is.
Alone again.
I am alone again.
Under this streetlight, I am on my
knees with my face buried in my weathered hands.
Tattered clothes.
The light exposes me.
A fragile boy, naive, and
looking to make sense of the world.
Hurt, torn apart by the cruelty of those less-written.
Another light flickers, but it dies again.
It dies again.
And in all this inclusive darkness, the
streetlight kindles a fire inside me.
I am a man in the body of a boy.
I am an amalgam of everything good in this world.
I am me.
I recognize this, but i extinguish
it.
Even so, I feel happy again.
I am happy again.