Ma, look at my bracelet!
It’s shiny and if you look hard enough I’m sure
you could see gold.
Ma, how long can I keep this?
Will I always wear this chain on my leg?
Ma, why do most kids get to wear chains on their necks or wrists?
Why is mine only on my ankle?
Ma, I’m sick of my gold bracelet, how do I take it off?
Chains around my ankles tell the story of my sin.
But is it a sin to attempt escape from this god forsaken prison?
Excuses abound as I list my absent father, absent brother, absent education.
The only thing present was darkness, my two fists and my bracelet.
Yah, my sin for all to see, I even show it to some so they may envy me.
Envy me, instead of fear me.
Fear me with those looks of justice, of righteousness.
How about we put you in prison, with your sin for all to see.
Maybe then your eyes would not try and avoid me.
Maybe then I would be given the privilege to avoid your glance.
Maybe in your prison you would be able to see mine.
He’ll always be a criminal they yell with their eyes.
Yah, don’t waste your time on me.
I’m still messed up, still in gangs, still a druggie.
Still a human.
Don’t waste your time on me.
Give me your sons and daughters to corrupt and pollute
for maybe that would give me a purpose.
Yeah, even a purpose for others.
Give me a prison cell to think about what I’ve done.
But don’t worry you’ve thought about it enough
even for me.
Am I sorry? Yes. Will it happen again?
Will I injure another?
I do it every day when I hope the next fucking judgmental eye
will never again be able to look my way.
Blind. Blind to the accusations etched in my skin.
The same skin chaffed by my bracelet of pure gold.
Ma, bracelets are worth more than me right?