They would keep saying everytime I’m leading the argument
I don’t think I can grow past 5 foot 6 even if I tried at the age of 26
But if they’ve had to scream, then one thing is for sure
I am winning
Call it a guilty pleasure but I love that feeling of knowing that they’re wrong
Knowing that I have another opportunity for a ‘Hey, I told you so!’
As I smugly rub my facts on their faces like an unlikely messiah they would never be proud of
“I can’t wait to get a Mustang”, I tell my brother to which he replies
“Why don’t you focus on being a better human being first?”
If burns had names, I would call that the Angelina Jolie of them all
But two things – I did get my Mustang
And I feel like a crappier human being

Oh, what would it take for this soul to command the neurons in this brain to fire up the nerves within my spine to charge these fists to curve up against my ears and listen
Just listen
To those who tread past me on a road I didn’t entirely choose but I’ve had to make my way through this life I don’t seem to nearly want somehow
As I drive through this highway eagerly looking for a sign
Any sign
That can tell me which exit to take or which intersection eagerly awaits my arrival
For all I imagine my destination to be is some sort of a ghost town
Riddled with the souls of ancestors I did not know
I wish
I wish I could just hold those wise palms of my grand-dad again
And let each wrinkle tell me a story
Of how he lived his life as a 26 year old
Of how he found his exit
Of how he held grandma and told her how he loved her for the very first time
A grandma I never got to see
And even if came to it, I would want that palm to slap this face a bit
Straighten me up a little bit
Let my ego take a hit and tell me to stop feeling like


It all comes down to this
I ain’t no knight in shining armor
My armor is rusty and bent as I stand in a battlefield
Fighting against this cancer in my mind that just won’t let me grow up
That tells me the truth of being born as a second generation Asian immigrant in an Arab land immersed in western media
I realize that I don’t even know what my accent is supposed to sound like
And then I’m caught in between ‘being yourself’ and ‘being different’
But in the quest of being too different I ended up losing myself

I have begun to realize
That just like a colourless rubik’s cube
There is no point in figuring me out
A black and white rainbow
That shines for none
And I’m forced to show you only two shades of me
Leaving the rest for you to seek
So tread carefully through the spectrums of this perfectly lost soul

I know I didn’t choose these cracks or scars
But all I can do is accept them since they are a part of my reality
And ignorance won’t ever keep the promise
Of making the stains disappear
I smear new colours over them
And dab on the canvas of the moment
To create a bigger picture

That’s the only beauty that remains
The beauty of this abstract mess called ‘life’

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