“Mad Flow” 

BY TRAETON CLARK

I was born on March 10th in a city called York.

Thankfully, I wasn’t delivered via a stork.

Half-Black, half-White, I hope that’s alright.

My mind works differently than most, and you’ll say,

“Oh, but of course!” Meanwhile, I’m already onto my 

next train of thought, racing as if not to get caught.

Intertwined in a constant internal battle,

Always end up being branded like some sort of cattle.

From the onset, my mom thought something was off.

There were times when all people did was look and scoff.

Used to eat me alive, ’cause me and them wouldn’t really jive.

Now before y’all feel pity, I still got some wit in me.

Could be worse, it isn’t like a curse.

I just try to keep pace, no need to go to outer space.

Let’s talk family, it’s going to be a jamboree.

Simply put, Mom’s the bomb.

Dad’s a different case; he’s made some mistakes.

No matter what, though, he’s been by my side, like a life guide.

At nine, lost Granny, her memory was frenzied, but she’d never forget me.

Got five siblings, three brothers, two sisters.

They are all over the place like the game called Twister.

Alright, time to wrap this up.

Hopefully this wasn’t a flub.

The name is Traeton Clark, and this is only the start.