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Some say it’s pitiful.
I say it’s me.
Day after day, going to a legal imprisonment they call school.
Coming home to a house unfit for a cockroach.
Across from a drug dealer, in my front yard is from where I was sent to court and convicted.
At age 12.
I say this today, not for sympathy, but for understanding.
So that if the people knew what it’s like to be me.
Maybe, just maybe, could this cloud of violence and injustice lift off of me for one day.
But this will not happen.
This will never happen.
As I try to make a change in life.
I have to hide my true feelings from all types of authority.
All I have to express myself is this poem.
I’ve always been the rebellious one,
The non-conforming child amongst a world of supposed adults.
Well now I’m going to speak out.
Let the world hear me.
Let everyone who has stood in the way of me be brought to their knees at the wrath of my pen and paper.
Let them know that physically I am silenced, but through this I shall be heard.
And when I am heard, let it be loud.