Our World

Maybe I’m just cursed to walk down these empty halls,

Get skipped in role call,

Eat lunch alone – In bathroom stalls,

 

Keep my head down, do my work, don’t draw attention,

I don’t just space out – I go to another dimension,

Honorable mention,

For the invention, prevention, and extension of retention,

Of social convention,

That I approach with condescension, dissention and apprehension,

Before deciding to follow my own path –

I’m just guessin’               ,

That I scare you – yep, all hundred and twelve pounds of me,

5 foot 5 and petite, yeah – pretty intimidating,

Wait! Maybe I’ve got this all wrong, let me again begin.

Maybe I just scare you because of the colour of my skin,

shocked/mocking voice: *GASP* Did she just say that – you know that ‘s not true!

Um, yeah, where have you been – have you been watching the news?’

 

Shocked/mocking voice: Why are teenagers always so angry? – How’d we get this result?

Maybe it’s because you treat us like children,

But expect us to act like adults,

And you complain that our generations’ screwed up – that we can’t commit,

Well what were you expecting when the all messages that you transmit?

Are that we’re worthless, that we’re selfish, that we’re generally unfit,

And then you act like you’re surprised - when we start believing it                       ?

 

Whatever happened to encouraging the next generation?

Instead of the deflation of a foundation built on manipulation,

 

Instead of being left with advice we’re left with national debt,

An economy that’s collapsing, wars been already set,

I think that it’s a safe bet,-

To say that this generation isn’t screwed, it’s just been screwed over,

Independent thought as hard to find,

As a four-leaf clover,

 

And I’m not gonna treat this subject like taboo - or approach it with stealth,

How come they prioritize my grades over my mental health?

Because how can I expect to be recognized,

Because in the publics’ eyes,

I don’t even exist,

Well guess what you all – surprise!

 

Because my skin has color they call me African American,

I’m not mad about that – just surprised at the arrogance

You have to assume my race without even giving me a chance,

To explain why I look like this – and some melanin I lack,

 

Well guess what – I’m 50 percent white, 50 percent black –

Wrap your mind around that,

Take a good look,

Think and pull back,

That I’m just as white as I am black and vise versa,

 

I don’t care if people think I’m black, It just gets me mad,

That you refuse to acknowledge us so much that you state in evidence,

That Barack Obama was the U.S’s first black president,

But he’s not – he’s not black – he’s like me, he’s mixed,

This is what I mean when I say we seize to exist,

 

I guess it’s just easier to lump us minorities together on a regular basis,

Must’ve been hard when you discovered there were more than two races,

 

And don’t even get me started on equality for females –

Or the lack of it-

But do you know what? For once I think I’ll do what I’m told,

Deny my racial background,

Wear pink, and my tongue I’ll hold,

Get paid less for doing exactly the same job,

Cook, sew, and clean the home,

Yeah – life’s great!

As you long as you have white skin,

And an XY chromosome.

This poem is about: 
Me
My country
Our world

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