Senior Project: The World Through My Eyes

Jan 7, 2021

Where are your bombs?

A container filled with explosives, smoke, gas, and other destructive substances. Used as a weapon to destroy.

Where are your guns?

A weapon incorporating a metal tube from which bullets, shells, or other missiles are propelled by explosive force. Used to defend against criminals that are physically harming another person.

Where are your chains?

A connected flexible series of metal links. Used to shackle, fast, and or pull supporting loads.

Where are your hands?

The end of a person's arm beyond the wrist, including the palm, fingers, and thumb. Used to pick up things and use tools. Used for writing, playing games, using computers, phones, and creation.

Where are your officers?

A person given the responsibility of enforcing the law, a police officer. A person that holds a position of authority an officer of the company. A person that holds a commission in the military. Used for enforcing the law, ensuring the safety, health, and possessions of citizens, and to prevent crime and civil disorder.

Bombs. Guns. Chains. Hands. Officers.

Weapons.

A thing designed or used for inflicting bodily harm or physical damage. A means of defending oneself or taking advantage of a person or thing in a conflicting contest.

A contest?

An event in which people compete for supremacy in a sport, activity, or particular quality. A term used most typically in a game, challenge, or in the subject of an argument or a legal case.

Not for the ruling of persons.

Persons?

A human is regarded as an individual. A man, woman, or child of the species homo sapiens, distinguished from other animals by superior mental development, power of articulate speech, and an upright stance.

All these words and I bet some of you still don't understand.

I would explain but I doubt you care.

Most of you most likely skipped this page.

As expected.

I'm speechless with horror at the life I get to live.

I'm so lucky to have to be faced with these weapons and sharp tongues for the rest of my and my family's life.

I am so lucky to be born and brought up in a country (that I didn't ask to be brought into) and pay bills and taxes and support the government and the laws just to be treated like I'm not a person.

In my opinion, if I'm not a person I shouldn't have to pay bills or taxes or support the government and the laws.

If I am not a person, I should be able to run free and do whatever I want with no obligations.

I shouldn't have to worry about the bombs, guns, chains, hands, officers, or any other being or object turned into just another weapon.

I shouldn't have to worry about the words that taunt me.

I shouldn't have to worry about the looks or the objects thrown at me.

But alas.

I do.

So I guess I am a person.

I guess I am a human being who bleeds and hurts and cries and smiles and laughs and plays and protects and suffers and builds and thinks and breathes and imagines and wants and prays and fears and creates and commands and speaks and loves

Just

Like

You.

********

I'm not sure if I want to change up this "poem" because of how I wrote it. It's sorta like a "sketch" which is what I call my works when they are just ideas. Just me writing everything that comes to mind regardless of how it comes out. Basically, you are reading my thought process of how I write my "poems".  It's kinda chaotic and not at all my style but also I think it feels more real as it is. I wrote about the struggles with racism we as a minority face and that isn't at all poetic or beautiful or smooth like how I like my poems to be, so I guess it's a reflection and completely unedited and unchanged. 

I hope it's not too hard to understand.