To store all of the magic
Who am I to accept things that I cannot change? Who ever declared that we cannot change things? I just dont know how many times ive heard someone ask me ” What you doin over here”. What you mean what am I doing here?I am confined within the limits of my neighborhood, well to be more accurate, within my street. Not only I but every one else within street. Who are you to deny me access to a specified destination? Once lines are drawn, they are meant to be crossed. A once known peaceful family, social gathering has now become a death trap within a warzone. You were safe if you were of Caucasian decent. You were safe if you were a female. You were safe if you were a child. This very safety we have grown accustomed too, we greedily consumed, and it has reached beyond the limitations that we could handle. To go to the war zone, you have to be granted access. That access is now to be White or age 6 and under because I have seen punches, rocks, and kicks thrown at a 10 year old by people twice his age. I refuse to oppressed by my own kind, I refuse to be oppressed by a higher power, and most definitely I refuse to be oppressed by me, myself.