I Am

Who am I? Well I guess you can say, White boy. The white boy trying to make it out. Trying to get through life, but am I on my own? I used to have a dream. On the edge of quitting, getting ready to scream. I’m just a youngling, trying to make it out of high school. On my own trying to see the top, do any of you have a stool? White boy inspired by the black man, but feeling left out, because I’m white, hearing Obama say, “Yes we can!” Yeah, I’m a minority. Yes, I’m a white boy. Wanting to become a man, as I throw away my favorite toy. I am the white man inspired by Dr. King. I’m the white man, who writes louder than he sings. I’m better than half the kids at this white-hated high school. I’m better than half the fake gangsters that think they’re cool. People don’t know what the white boy’s been through; they haven’t been to my house. If they have they’d know what real hate is about. I’m the white man to hold the family together. I’m the white man who failed to hold the family up forever. I’m the white man who’s a father to his brother. I’m the white man who lied to his grandmother. The lie to lift the family up on his back, but letting it fall down. I’m the white man feeling alone in this town. I am the white man who is viewed as a stranger. Hated on due to the early white man’s actions, which puts me in danger. I am the hurt white man; no one’s seen what I’ve been through. No one deals with school, family and my girl the way that I do. I am the white man. Thought out as a trader and told my words are wack, but how can you make me segregated, when my best fried is black? So who am I? To be judged because my skin isn’t tan? Well I guess there’s no more white boy. He’s now a white man.