Scars Into Seeds

They stitched labels on me before I even knew my name. Bad kid,

lost cause, kid from hell. Couldn't sit still, mind racing like a storm.

Teachers wrote me off, boys whispered, knives in my fists learned to

speak. Every bruise, every swing was a prayer nobody heard.

Suspension stacked, letters shoved me in a box. Said I'm trouble, never check the

clocks. Survival was my language, anger my tongue. Streets taught lessons,

classrooms never gave. Drugs and bottles quieted the storm, violence became my voice.

But kids like me aren't monsters. We're misread, misheard, misplaced.