Me Without A Place 4 Me by Kai Cotton

A product of my environment,
And it’s not a mistake,
Adaption to not having enough is an acquirement among my race.

So I question why
the color of my skin,
Played a big part in dictating my fate.

When I was born
After a few days in
I was taken home
To a crib to lay in.

A home that my guardians unfortunately didn’t own,
Not enough credit to get a home loan,
Not enough inheritance to pass down to me,
So I became accustomed to living in poverty.

Years went by and I went through a change,
Not very confident in who I became,

My family conditioned to their taught ignorance,
Lashed out at me because of my sexual interest,

Wrongful discipline combined with my backlash and disrespect,
Lead to protective services forced to interject.
Had I been a girl who was a non-colored youth
Would they have done more for my family to improve?

But I was taken away to a new home to which I never really belonged,
I was just placed there, left feeling installed.
Instead of embraced, loved and accepted
At the age of 17 I ran away before I could again be rejected.

Depressed and confused with my circumstance,
Myself I began to dishonor and dread,
My past trauma effecting my thought process,
I began to feel like I wanted to be thoughtless,

So, I became vulnerable to self-medicating,
Easy access in the area I was staying,
Isolated myself,
No one’s steps to retrace
I walked down a path and found “love” in the wrong place.
Now homeless, hopeless, drug influenced and abused
The only good picture of me was on the news.
I was missing
But no one really searched for me,
If my skin was lighter
Would my amber alert have been at a higher degree?

A product of my environment,
And it’s not a mistake,
A history of systematic racism taking its place.

Network impoverishment,
Lack of accomplishments,
Accumulated bitterness,
Paired with system belittlement.

I wished someone tried harder to give me positive reinforcement,
Through struggle I wasn’t exposed to beneficial resources,
I dropped out of school
I aged out of care
Still alone and homeless
I believed no one could ever care
If only my barriers fell low,
As tall as they stood
Things could have been better
I know that they could.

In the end again, I was like a baby,
Just with no home, no crib.
Left only with my traumas and the color of my skin.