You Can’t Understand me,
my words, my culture, my faith,
my existence in this world
that refuses to accept me
as a light of positivity.
You’d rather I sit in the dark
as a lonely sad spark
that burns this city down in
dismay and destruction.
How do I please you?
How can I please you?
I am out with the old, in with the new.
Demolition, not reconstruction,
new construction.
I am practice,
I am in practice.
A falling tower of kind words
pushing through,
“How do you do?”
A belief so strong that I do not belong,
but I keep leaving behind
strands of a shattered self.
A shred of self endearment said to me,
“This is not your crowd,
this is not your place,
this is not your fight,
so please turn away with grace.”
