The TV is telling me a movie story, But
I can't relate. Nobody in there looks like me.
Even the games I play have been carefully
Curated to exclude me. My day to day life
Is not on the walls of the backgrounds I
Shoot at. Not even the enemies look like
My daily struggles,
But I play on. Artificial intelligence tests
Miss my demographic, pushing out machines I
Can barely relate to, bearing the fake smiles
That poke through my skin in public spaces where
The world expects me to blend in, to grab a chair
Into their special lounge, where only I and my peers
Yet I'm blamed for the crimes that are committed,
And the police won't hesitate to test their suppositions
On me, for no matter what I do, no matter my position,
I must have stolen this car, and everything else as well.
My kind has committed some egregious crimes that swell
Above all the good I do in my community. Going to hell
Is the promise
The world has for me. They don't know me or my pain
In not having enough like me to relate to; seeking
Friends amidst the throng whose eyes look menacingly
In fear of what I could or would do to them and all.
No matter what I say or think or do, the vitriol
Just can't end. I need one whom I can dare to call
But even this meal that temporarily heals me will
Be considered something I stole of a hardworking
Man's back. Taking other people's stuff is the thing
All imagine me doing; this house I worked to buy
Must have been ripped of some miserable family guy.
These fancy clothes must be the blue to a conman's sky!
Could I have these, earned through hours and hours,
Sacrificing family relationships, my health, my loves,
Just to hit my targets of making in concrete new flowers?
Nobody believes I tried to change the world my way
'Cos to the world, robbing to climb is the only way
We the 1% make a living.
If you earn > $ 800 000/year, then you're part of this chastised minority: enjoy.