I spent my whole life till now drawing and dreaming
 that i could follow my passion of art, 
work hard, keep your head up and you'll pull through, the american mantra,
the good will of western society will smile on you ect. ect. 
but I'm more fixed than free and I was born that way 
because I have to pay to work 
and I have to work to pay
 for the very air I breath,  
as my asthmatic lungs contract I'm reminded 
that I don't have the
 as those older than me would say,
in proud tones that promote Hard work, Real work, what "Pays"
but to be a starving artist in ways not a choice,
because if I could choose I would go to school, but it's work now or more later 
on loans that collect interest like flies on a corpse
shot down by what seems like dark fate
In cold allyways
 in acceptance or resistance,
the bullet doesn't discriminate, but it's aim does
for instance
the corpse is the lower middle class
and I believe that it's because I wasn't born into a perfect family, 
one that makes enough money
 to give me everything
Because they still owe
Green printed promises that fall out of pockets to be caught between rotting leaves in drains 
faded in the light rainfall 
trickle down economics in action
and my reaction is that it's
water torture
What's the point of it all in that way? Can't I say;
 till my last breath, I'm all and all, 
 I would give my heart to have equality in education
equality at all
But the federal government asks 
Are your parents together? 
But they don't ask if its
Heavy whether there, not worth the thunder
 and I hit the road last summer,
 I've been on my own but I stayed out of the shelters
and that was my mistake according to my financial aid officer
because I know no one to vouch for my independence
 but I was scared of the darkness there in the average human's sentence
I hid between the pages of my sketchbook from that prison.
And when I dream I am free and work is work for 
you, me,
and everybody, anybody, this is the home of the free
But then I wake, 
and I believe
that Intersectionality means that if anyone in the world is oppressed,
than I am not free, because that system of power is aloud to exist, and I resist
but my body is like glass but I'm shouldering my world
As my lungs contract again,
So if I could change anything I would change my situation
The situation of so many lower middle class somehow slipped through the cracks
I would send us all to school so that the voice we promise ourselves 
(in shivering
under leaky roofs 
at night,
or nicely furnished apartments, 
or sprawling glittering mansions)
 we all as Americans have,
Our freedom,
our freedom of speech,
could be heard.


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