Who am I to tell him the truth?
To strip him of his innocence and crush the very foundation upon which he stands?
To destroy his illusion and welcome him to reality?
Who am I to make him feel ordinary when he believed he was so much more?
To tell him that every dream he’s ever dreamed will be only that, a dream.
To burden him with the tiring task of carrying his own weight?
To enlighten him to the darkness that this awful world holds?
Who am I to reveal to him the truth about how he will never succeed in life?
Who am I to tell him that regardless of how hard he works to get his fill, he will never be as successful as his white counterpart?
To denounce his aspirations and make true the stereotypes society has waiting for his future?
To apprise him of the hatred and disgust he will face in his life for something he has no control over?
To divulge the pain and the suffering that he will live through as he wakes up every morning just to be greeted by the same reflection that put him in his lowly state.
Who am I to set him free in a world where he’ll never be treated so?
Who am I to tell him that because of the color of his skin, he’ll never be more than a stable buck on a depressed ranch?
Who am I to tell him the truth?