The Average Child
Poem by Martin Rocha
Art by Samuel Rodriguez

He was your average child
Never really caught up with style
Lived his life to the fullest tried to rock a constant smile
Understanding of this plot and its continuous trials
So many miles at such a young age
If you got to know him a bit better, you'd feel the presence of a sage
Pages were filled in the darkness of night
Allowing the words to illuminate and shine bright
It's like they climbed right outta the pen like they weren't from him
Now where can we begin, a ray of hope within this world of sin.
He didn't think much of it, downplayed it like it was nothing major.
At school the teachers would consider him nothing but a failure
He didn't abide by the rules
Father taught him that jails were parallel to schools
They told him to watch his tongue
When he asked the simple question why were the natives hung
Put him to the back of the class with a check beside his name
School was always the same -- boring, mundane
He'd never complain about a thing
Though just post up in his desk waiting for the bell to ring
So he could escape home and evacuate the premise
Public school system was his arch nemesis since the beginning just like Genesis
7 F's laced his report cards but they didn't report scars
Kept em' masked like SARS perhaps Spirits to strong to collapse
colliding with the institution
If they knew he had the ability to be the next MLK
or Gandhi they woulda rushed at the chance to introduce him
Instead they would try to seduce him
To drop out and find a trade
He dropped out but his path was already laid
Made music that touched the masses and crafted hope when he spoke the people would listen
He could put together the pieces of the puzzle that seemed to be missing.
The picture got clear sailing past fear reflecting on past years that brought him to here
He chuckled when thinking about the teachers who disregarded his statements
But he also was thankful because they taught him patience
Everything happens for a reason so you can't really blame anyone for the things that happen
It's just all for His perfection, meaning the master craftsmen
And we're the instruments and tools that He's craftin'

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