No One was Raised Like Me

By  Max Jones

I was raised by some head-banging,

guitar picking, throw your body into some else,

hope you don’t get hurt

kinda music.

I was raised by some hard hittin,

bone breakin, crowd pleasing,

hoping you don’t mess it all up

kinda sports.

I was raised by fine line drawin,

so many markers I don’t know what to do,

a blank canvas ready to get painted all over

kinda art.

I was raised by some, “Hey lets go do something,”

getting into trouble, kinda

never thinking about our actions

kinda friends.

I was raised by some loud yellin,

hard hittin, strict, but loving

kinda family.

I was raised by some late night runs,

with loud music playing, and some starving people in the back,

by drive thrus and O’ Charley’s

kinda food.

I was raised by some tattoos and piercings,

with black hair and punk clothes,

 weird looks and people not understanding

kinda appearance.