12,13,14,15,16,17; Growth and Change, a Memoir About the Past on My Birthday

Dawn; it's still dark, I sit on a bench,

Awaiting the oncoming light, wondering how much time I have,

It's been a long night, it'll be a long day,

I'm exhausted, listless, but I wear a cocky grin,

As sideways and crooked as the people I'm avoiding,

That's how it had appeared to me, then I was blind,

A viel of weed-smoke, easy money, worthless power and fun,

Pure, raw, adrenaline pumping fun shielded my minds eye, my conscience

I had no morals, but all of the morale a 13 year old could muster,

I excelled only in the areas of my life that I wanted to excell at, all "extra-curricular,"

Nothing else, that was enough for me, I was content,

I had seperate lives and no one knew the true me: not a soul

I had friends, but none so close that I would uncover

every species of my being, so I was ultimately alone,

But more than my parents could hope to entertain; a nusiance,

Delinquent, I had too many encounters with the law..I was punished,

Flung from my Nor-Cal haven to that wasteland reffered to by most as Strongsville,

No longer free, respected, paid..no longer befriended,

Now I was truly a loner, an outcast, riding my older brothers coat-tails,

I adopted his nickname; the ultimate humiliation: taco.

I spit at successful people, smirk at pain and danger, I hate racism.

I miss freedom, I miss confidance, I'm hungry for real life...hell, for home!