worthless ramblings about worth over break

I sit in my room listening to poetry

thinking this could be my life

but what does it mean to be a receptor of poetry?

I know that I am

but I don't have misery to compare

to the black men living in the poor of their era.

I know that I am.

I am I am

I am alive

but is my story worth telling

in the makeup of this universe

WHO CARES

who cares about the struggles

of collegiate life

when my parents lived on the streets

on the run

I know that I am

but what does it mean to be Puerto Rican

when my mother and father lived strugglin harder

that I can imagine

I know that I am

but I am not a child solder in Nigeria

I am not starving in Indonesia

so does my story really matter?

I know that I am.