"Standard" by Justin

I can speak. I've got the dialect.

I've been in the army, got a job.

My sons play football on their

school teams. I believe I've met

your criteria. I've integrated.

But now you tell me I'm not

indigenous, a native I could

never be. You're so full of bile

and shit. And you wonder why

I don't want to live in your

hypocritical neighborhoods

where you stare at me and my

kind, make me yearn for

the days of mere discomfort.