My professor said to us,

Go to your rooms and write some lines tonight
And let them come from you
And then, it will be true.

I don't believe it's that simple.
I am twenty, blackinese, born in Mutlangen.
I never went to school there, but in Winston-Salem,
Then to a college up on a hill in the Highlands.
I'm the only CLS major in my class.
From that hill in the Highlands is a path
That leads to Louisville, then down to the riverfront,
And then onto the rest of Kentucky.
Unfamiliar territory for me not being a native,
So I stay in my dormitory slightly close-by
Next to a green track and shrubs
And write...

It ain't easy telling the truth from a lie,
Especially from within you or me at twenty,
My age and my inspiration date.
But I do believe that I am what I see and hear,
Louisville, I hear you: hear you, hear me, us, together, on the page.
Huh what? Me, myself and I, who?
Welp, I like to eat, sleep, run, kick, punch, jump,
Not like a game character but more like a kid at twenty.
I like a Playstation 3 and an iPod for a Birthday present,
Some mp3's – Linkin Park, Rule or Techie-Pop.
I guess being the only Afro-Jap
Doesn't make me like the same things other races like.
But does this mean my page is going to be black and orange?
Black and white like a sand baby writes?
Knowing me, it won't be white,
But because you asked, it will be true.

Why? Because it's a part of you.

You are white as my paper,
But yet a part of me as much as you're the part of the class.
That's how it is in America, the rainbow continent.
I don't want any part of you either,
The only fusions I do are in laboratory.
And I know you don't want to be a part of me,
You wouldn't be able to handle what comes with it.
But sadly, to your dismay, you are, good sir.
That's cool – that's true.
I guess you could learn from me,
Though you're much older and whiter,
But a little less free from knowing so much
And being parts of other people including me.
This is more than just a few lines.

This is my page for English C.