I fall into poetic lines, surrounded by the un-surfaced emotions of my deep inner realm. In every breath that a pencil is taken by the yearning grip, I speak out in the brilliant and thoughtful words I can solely imagine. Existing on this earth for only sixteen years, but unimpeded by the cruel lash of the prejudice society. My educators are awed by my works of literature, questioning why I am fated to drag chains. I couldn’t satisfy the indifferent school I’d supposed to belong in, but verily I found an unthinkable path better, more pearlescent than the darkness they pushed me towards. A girl, of few similarities with any other soul. But even with a college graduate mastery of writing, even with a trigonometry blaze of wisdom, a biology teenage excellence, an A grade student, my family uses the primitive envy and nerve to call me a rudimentary word. As within their unsupported connotation to my intelligence, I am “stupid.”