Minority Boy & A White Girl

I was never a part of the in-crowd. 

Frequently misunderstood. 

Floating away, and away, from 

the unspoken traditions of the social kingdom. 

"The last of a dying breed" as 

SchoolBoy Q once remarked. 

And yet, truly . . . 

I always sought to be within, to use 

others as a facade for my insecurities. 

Looks will grant you the world. 

Minority boy plus a white girl. 

I'm better than you.  

And one morning, I had died. 

My heart broken, spewing short 

bursts of whatever emotion I had left 

for her. 

The blood, coagulated, and vanished

into thin air. 

All of myself, gone to waste. 

Gone and gone forever, she is. 

Alone again. 

I am alone again. 

Under this streetlight, I am on my

knees with my face buried in my weathered hands. 

Tattered clothes. 

The light exposes me. 

A fragile boy, naive, and 

looking to make sense of the world. 

Hurt, torn apart by the cruelty of those less-written. 

Another light flickers, but it dies again. 

It dies again. 

And in all this inclusive darkness, the 

streetlight kindles a fire inside me. 

I am a man in the body of a boy. 

I am an amalgam of everything good in this world. 

I am me. 

I recognize this, but i extinguish

it. 

Even so, I feel happy again.

I am happy again.