I am from, a life of random. a place where my race can’t be classified but on the state exams I prefer to circle the box saying black, but a school where my voice is different so they say I’m white....confusing really...being too young to remember but the memories hunt my dreams and sweep up under my feet. From having a double copy, a brother that looks just like me, twins.! I am from a home that only knows one parent and long hours of work, a father who is there but at the same time never really there, mother can you hold me.? O wait she’s gone, sister play with me.!... I am from a city that I wish to run from, escape from, because this place, a four walled trap, a narrow alley...depressing really... from growing up with my neighbor to not knowing the names of families down the street....music runs through my dreams and to put pen to paper I write how I feel...depressing really.....I am from...but then again its depressing really. Having toys pushed at my feet but a wild child I prefer the pots and pans thank you. I am from.... dresses and mindless patty cake games to skinny jeans and I’ll never touch another hand...depressing really. From a curly fro of young mixed black and white hair to twists and flat irons... depressing really..... I am from...but then again it’s depressing really...