Imagine if you were to fall, fall apart at the seams,
be another brick on the wall, and give up on your dreams.
Blindly going along, you’d be gasping for air,
battling what’s right and wrong, thinking life’s not fair.
There emerged two voices, from this same tree,
which contemplated life choices, in the battle of one’s identity.
When I stepped out into the bright sunlight,
I could only see my shadow growing darker.
Like this abysmal and unknown path of fear.
Funny how we’re supposed to live on the east side,
filling this void with a tough exterior.
Like running towards an emotional shelter.
We’re born underprivileged, as victims of the environment.
We turn to menace for any predicament.
We’re tagged as outcasts, and as juvenile delinquents.
But do we all develop the same violent judgments?
When I stepped out into the serene moonlight,
I felt a numbing effect all over my body.
Like I was draped in a blanket of nothingness.
This is how we’re expected to live on the west side,
keeping up with appearances over reality.
Like our laid-out lives aren’t causing enough stress.
With several privileges pouring in,
we keep craving, hoping to see the end.
But there are no boundaries, there is no ‘until’,
So even though we hunt for luxuries, we are left unfulfilled.
So when we all stride down the street,
and when our lives meet,
we all feel like we have more struggles than others.
But is that even a quantifiable race?
Once you know it’s rough all over,
every chance over a choice, you’ll begin to chase.
And before we define ourselves by the clothes we wear,
by the people we are with, not the values we share,
we need to forget who’s better,
because no matter what, we’ll stay different from each other.
We’ll stay different, but live together,
Wanting to be loved by one and another.
So whether you’re an east-sider or a west-sider,
Or someone else, we all live in the same hope.
Because we all are outsiders,
Outsiders to ourselves, until we reach the end of the rope.
– This poem was inspired by the book “The Outsiders” written by S.E. Hilton.
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