Freedom

When I see your face

I think of those

Whom I grew up around,

Messing with me

Whenever possible,

Invading my privacy,

Taking away my freedom.

But my freedom

Was intact.

It was my race

That took away

Their freedom.

They didn’t have

A fancy free childhood

Like me.

They weren’t given

Whatever they wanted,

And weren’t free

To go wherever

And with whomever

They wanted, like me.

Their parents couldn’t afford

To buy them a computer.

They didn’t have

Highly educated parents

To help them

With their homework.

They had to worry

If they’d have breakfast

Each day,

And dinner was nonexistent.

No, my freedom

Was not taken.

They were just reminding me

That they were there,

And they deserved

Freedom too.

And when they saw me,

They saw privilege,

Someone who couldn’t imagine

What it is like

To really struggle to get by;

Someone who didn’t appreciate

How much freedom they had.

Indeed.

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Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger

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