It seems I've been lying.
I didn't grow up on the streets.
I didn't struggle with the choice
of a gun in my hand or a bullet in my chest.
I have never shot heroin
into collapsed veins in my neck
and never sold my soul for coke.
I wasn't born with a silver spoon
but it wasn't wooden either.
Closer to lead really,
just right for poisoning the spirit.
I have never been homeless by necessity,
although by choice is another issue.
I have never been incarcerated, unless
you count the lockdown in my mind.
I have never slit my wrists because
mommy and daddy didn't love me enough, hell-
I was never even a cutter, except out of
a noose of responsibility.
I have never been on a cross-country road trip,
I have never been more spontaneous than a
Friday night beer run.
I have never fallen,
although I stumble with every step.
I never learned to steal or get girls,
but I did memorize the Cartoon Network line up.
I was never asked to join a gang,
unless you count the Micky Mouse Club.
I never cracked a bone, only a smile.
I never rolled skulls, only skates.