Proud

Unreal.

Exahausted by their stares upon my skin. 

I am sick of the whispers of how the culture of my generation aren't heros. Infuriated with the rumors how we should be carrying diapers and babies instead of degrees in our hands. 

The lies that escape through their tounge are acid.

Tasting my pride and swallowing my confidence temptimg my anger burning to its end like a cigarette!

But I staple my lips shut, gulp away the needles of anger, ready to stab at the haters and the hypocrites disdaning my culture but, instead of chocking my pride I tattoo it like "S" on supermans chest. I walk with the glamous skin my culture inscribed in my style.

I carry the swag of my peoples courage, and of the tributes that allowed my generation freedom and education.

I may look to society like the sewer rats in the streets,

I may intimidate you with my native tounge,

I may even prove I am better than you,

But I will alk on that srage cap and gown, tall and proud with my last name.