I am a Teenager from the south

I am a teenager from the south

Everyday at 6:30, I walk down my street to the curb and stand in the cold
I let the ice sting my nose with every breath I draw
My fingers go numb and my mind goes blank
I dream of a life without the prison
That mandatory prison
The hours are wasted learning math formulas and deciding careers
We are told to accept these hours
We are silenced by the pencils and the homework
But no one feels happy anymore

In these places, confidence is promoted but also shunned
I try to be myself but under no circumstances will the prison allow diversity
I choose to wear my scars, to show my bruises
And I declare that as long as I am allowed to be myself, no one can hurt me anymore
But the prison shuts me out
I am either sent back to the holding cell or shunned in front of all the other prisoners
I scream and kick and punch but no one helps me
I dream of a brand new start
I dream of a new prison for outsiders, far away from the brainwashed husks of my peers
I dream of a prison far away from the south
But I dream in the dark
I dream alone

When the hours finally end, and I am left once again in the cold
I walk back down my road to my home
Familiar smells and familiar sounds almost heal my wounds
Dizzy drunk faces make me feel less alone
The prison is far enough away from my home for me to feel safe
But though I am wrapped in the arms of home once again
There is no end to the pain
No medicine for the infections
No sympathy for the wounds
No bandages for the blood
And no silence to the voices

The man from the market stops me and tells me that wearing black makes me a target for evil
The old woman from the church tells me to fix myself by turning to a false prophet
The community looks down on me for looking the way I do
For loving who I am
For loving who I love
For not fitting into the cookie cutter outline of the south
Southern little girls are supposed to have long blonde hair and sun kissed skin
Southern little girls are supposed to dance to country music and outlaw diversity
And most of all, southern little girls are supposed to stay quiet
I never fit in here
I fit in nowhere
No prisons, no homes
No nowhere
The lack of color is oppressive
The lack of sound here is deafening
The lack of helping hand to reach out to only sinks me further into the abyss
I wail and lament
There is no hope in North Carolina
There is no hope in the southern prisons
And though I am still dreaming of a new start somewhere else
I know deep down that there is no hope in far away lands

I am a teenager from the south