Youngster With A Dream

I knew this youngster with a reachable dream,
But the harder he tried the harder it seemed,
To keep from being just another statistic,
Escaping the ghetto, his goal with a quickness.

This kid I speak of goes by the name of Johnny,
The third of four boys from their mother Connie,
Living in a two bedroom apartment with a view,
Of the dangerous neighborhood he was born to.

Four boys but only three still hanging.
The older two, one dead, the other banging,
The youngest is a high school star athlete,
But Johnny has the brains to get out and compete.

Honor student, and a 3.0 GPA that never dipped,
Good enough to earn an academic scholarship,
College bound, his ticket out of the projects,
First one to give his family name some respect.

Finally, the day came when Johnny graduated,
Preaching to kids the value of being educated,
Was how he spent his last summer in the hood,
Off to college soon and life was looking good.

Summer has past as Johnny settles in at school,
In a suburban area where every house has a pool,
Housed on campus living in a student dorm,
Still acclimating while friendships are being formed.

Alone at first, wondering if he'll like his room mate,
Arriving after classes started, arriving three days late,
A mismatched pairing as opposite as day and night,
A black man from the hood, a rich boy who is white.

Their interactions spoken with great acrimony,
Insults and racial slurs thrown around freely,
Johnny requested to be roomed with another.
On a his request he wrote,"Presumably a brother".

His request denied until the semesters end,
While the animosity kept growing between them,
Then one night before Johnny went to bed,
This hatred for one another came to a head.

His room mate drunk came barreling through the door,
Johnny swung and missed wrestling him to the floor,
Unaware his room mate was carrying a gun,
Two shots later and Johnny's life is quickly done.

Dead after only three months in suburban Pinewood,
After surviving eighteen years in a dangerous hood,
A life ended ironically, such a sad, twisted, tragedy,
His last thought, " I beat the ghetto but hatred beat me".