“You’re lucky” 

“You’re spoiled”

Everyone says that to me when they look at me,

When they just meet me,

and they’re not wrong 

I AM lucky,

I AM spoiled 

And because of that the expectations are set high,

I was told that I could do whatever I want,

Yet I was stuck playing sports 

I was stuck going out and not having a say in anything

Being told what to do

Yet I could do “whatever I want”

I was told to make friends when I wanted to be alone

I was told “you look sad” and “you look mad” when I was just sitting

I always said I wasn’t, but what if I was.

What if I was thinking about all the things that happened to me, 

What about the time I was getting shoved and yelled at by kids when I was young

When I was left in my room on the ground crying.

I never thought it was about what I look like

But now it makes sense.

I was told to play sports because I was tall

I was told I was lucky because I had nice clothes

I was told I was spoiled because I always got what I asked for

But as I got older I was no longer as lucky as I was told.

Getting the cops called on me because I was with my baby sister

Because I was having fun climbing trees 

Getting called slurs because I didn’t want to play basketball.

I just let all this happen, I didn’t do anything. I was in the shadows

But then I fought back,

I fought two boys, one had a knife, the other was a rapist. 

Shit… I COULD’VE DIED 

Yet I got the cops called on me because I won.

Then I started to question everything.

It all clicked when my girlfriend’s dad threaten to accuse me of raping her.

It was because of my skin,

I didn’t know it because I was still lighter than most black people

But when old white men and women just see someone even a little bit darker than them

They see them as a huge threat. I was just a young boy

But still they didn’t wait to call the cops 

But I WAS lucky I didn’t go to jail.

I started to be quiet again, and not do anything about what people said or did to me.

I won’t start anything

But I will finish it

I will go into the shadows once again.

And pray the cycle won’t repeat, and pray it won’t get worse.