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The teacher said, Go home and write a poem tonight And let that poem come out of you--- Then, it will be true. I wish it were that simple. I am merely a sixteen year old, born in a world where rich get richer and the poor get poorer, or just get stuck right in the middle. Wake up, and first thing I think, what can I do to not bring down my parents hopes. Get ready for school and dream up a dream that may never come true, bringing down and crushing all my reveries. Go to school, walk up those steps and try to make a difference. Walk down those steps talking down to myself Then walking up those steps that lead to my home. Putting on a fake smile, when in reality all you feel is down. It’s hard to tell the difference between the real and the fake at the age where all you want to do is bend and break. I feel and see and hear, teenagers, I hear you. But can you hear me? Hear me the way I hear you? (I hear adults too,) Hear the way I scream in anguish? Because I see you languish. I like a lot of things. I like being alone or being with friends. I also like to read, learn, sing, and ponder about the upcoming. I know it’s kind of puzzling. But it doesn’t matter what I like. for what I need is a career. I know what I need, but it’s something I fear. We are not the same, you and I. I go to a school, just like you did. In fact you work there, at Morton West. The teachers there are pretty nice, but they expect you to know what you want to do with your life. It makes my head spin out of control, wondering what I should do. Drop out of school like some of the students do? Fall down under all the weight of stereotypes? Or rise up above these cliches? You have never had to do this, for you are part of the majority. And all I am is a minority. But the majority of the school is part of the minority. But maybe you do understand, for you were once this age. This is my poem for English 4. Inspired by Langston Hughes. Also an assignment my teacher made me do.
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