Fat, strong French accent, a little hairy and not fantastic.

This was me, a young kid in the slums polluted by crime and plastic.

 

No one to help, no one to think about.

All alone, when bullies struck I could not cry out.

By falling down and taking their hits and hate

this poor boy could do nothing.

Then the voice came in, then the tone stepped up

the bold levels within me became something.

 

This voice I gained in the latter years of my teenage life, so strong yet sympathetic.

The words I spoke, did not break but rather build for the empathetic.

Four more years of mandatory education were pivotal

The need for a strongside voice was critical.

 

I was the one people looked up to, scarred and silenced by hate

Even with this voice, speaking for the hurt

The bad vibes in school would still say degrading blurts

 

Hate was given to me by those bad vibes and hurt

But hate was no longer something I'd take

On camera, on newspapers, in person

I used my voice to give people a reason

Pep talks, comedy skits

Theather acts, inspirational blips

 

The hate they gave made me give voice

Reason

Choice

Hope

Peace

Joy

Love

 

All that, from a good old Spartan boy

Hate given, none taken