Let me tell you a story.
A story of hurt, pain and eventual healing.

Once upon a time, there was a boy as joyous as could be.
A boy once described as a gentle giant.
Who had big dreams and aspirations for the future.
A boy happy and proud of being their authentic self.
Was taught about the importance of culture and the sacrifices of his ancestors.
Was taught the truth about our shared history; a truth that would soon be undermined, rejected and punished.
Where innocence died and his colour became villainized.
The day he  first went outside his house.
The day that pride and happiness shattered and reality became tattered.
The day his heart became bruised and battered.
Where the gentle giant became an angry monster like the Incredible Hulk.
Except for the part where he felt anything but incredible.
Humans sure can be cruel.
Illusions of difference kept up by oppressive rules.
And those unable to see beyond it, truly are the biggest fools.
Blind truly lead the blind, for real.
Some call it cynical, some call it political, yet many ignore the pain it yield’s.
But unlike bread for many like this boy it’s hard to rise.
Hard to overcome all the factors that keep many sidelined.
Left to pretend everything’s fine.
When it’s obviously not.
Healing is hard; it takes time.
Especially when many of your friends die.
Believing in the lie’s.
Who’s to blame?
Perhaps everyone is.
Which got many like the little boy wondering?
Are we monsters by choice or by circumstance?
Perhaps both?
Perhaps neither?
All I know is many are hurting.
All I know is people are crying.
Which makes the little boy wonder?
How many tears are enough to create change?
How many deaths does it take to create change?
All the boy knows is he’s alive and has overcame.
All he knows is that it took years to heal, and understand that he isn’t insane.
Or some monster that needs to be tamed.
He knows that he may be indigenous, but he’s human all the same.
And he hopes he can help others like him someday.