When I was a young boy,
I was not allowed by, white trash parents;
To play with their children.

Writing my thoughts, relating out loud,
and seeing it tell what I hope most think,
only makes me feel, that I spoke too soon,
and I am not strong, like all the rest,
that keep it in, till they go do something,
that they would not do, if it weren't for the fact,
that they can't let it out, and show themselves,
to all the rest, that can let it out,
and do not worry, about the rest,
who make up towns, and live their lives,
like those next door, and down the street,
and never think, about the people next door,
and what is thought, about themselves,
and how they act, in the very sane bits,
that are always played, by people that try,
to be the same, and say the things,
that are always said, by people who watch,
what others do, and think they're right,
in all the ways, they teach they're kids,
to believe in what, they think is true,
to live a life, they never knew,
because they know, deep down, that they can't go wrong,
when they've lived their lives, followed the fold,
and never strayed, the path laid down,
by parents who, never thought, of another way,
to raise their kids, than the way they learned,
from their folks, who thought that they,
knew just how, to raise from birth, a child who,
would take with him, the knowledge to change,
the world and show, folks who only,
thought one way, and always lived,
the life they knew, was right and never,
be the kind, who makes others think,
of different ways, to look at life,
and think that they, could be wrong,
and what they learned, to be true,
form folks who never, lived their lives,
different from, their neighbors who,
never learned, from what they saw,
and closed their eyes, to a different way,
for what could be,
most might reject.

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