A Young Me

A young me battled with resentment.

I questioned why my gravity felt heavier than yours when we're on the same planet.

Why did I have to try to become superman just to be a normal man with a shot at life?

I normalized my survival. Burned by the sun too many times to count.

The real reason meant that your acceptance and silence was my sentence.

How high could I fly if the chains were broken?

A young me lived with courage.

How could I be a victim or blame a stranger for what they didn't know?

How could I keep my head down, when I strived to lift my spirit up.

A young boy just wanted to grow up without being shot by the stars.

The city block was my universe until I discovered your dimension. Now I measure my ambition on a scale of infinity, in the shadow of silence and debris, with no mentions of why this needs to be this way.

A young me is a man now. Looking out into your space hoping I can still breathe, if I'm out, exposed without my protective suit that matches your color.

I am a man who will persist towards the sun and back because I am a black man with the heart of a planet and the strength of a cosmic storm born from the love of something older than time.