So many souls striving for perfection,
Living as if victims of natural selection,
never thinking of escape from society’s rule of thumb.
Striving for a face worthy of a photograph,
To do something worthy of their epitaph,
saying it doesn’t matter but fighting to the death for a part of the total sum.
I wish I could say I weren’t one of them, one of the souls fighting to the end for something that doesn’t deserve to begin.
But I too want a smile of straight, white teeth,
friends who are all better than me,
To be a broken branch from the family tree
that’s rooted in a long dead dynasty,
Of kings and queens, and slaves and dreams
Of a better life for you and for me,
And a prayer to God that tomorrow’s light
Will end my plight. My fight for what shouldn’t be right.
- if my life were meant to be sung to the tune of the theme song from Fresh prince of bel air. Thank you, I’m here all week