Lookin’ Out my Back Door

Often times I find myself “lookin’ out my backdoor,” in the distance I see what looks like a tall fence with large holes. Holes large enough for my hands to fit through but not my body, the fence is a shimmery gold color. As I draw close on the other side I see tall green grass and a blue stream of water so clear you can see the tadpoles swim at the bottom. I stand there looking surprisingly at what seems to be a paradise, similar to what I see in my dreams. However, I can’t find my way to the other side.

As I turn around to find another way I see something approaching me it appears to be a large black creature. I try to run into the house but I can’t open the door, they’re locked! I frantically began to take small steps backward until I find myself pinned against the fence with nowhere to go. I look up to the sky to say a prayer but then I notice a large circular top overhead, I could see through the gold lining. It was glistening like diamonds connecting to what appeared to be the fence, but no. I let out a loud scream as I notice this is not at all a fence but a cage!

Often times I find myself boggled down by the events taking place around me. Often times these events are all so overwhelming, which leads me to ask, “Where is the future of America headed?” We call ourselves land of the free and home of the brave. I don’t feel free, we are lead to believe that we create our own destiny. But is it really true or is our fate predetermined based on race, economic status, and ancestry? Citizens are confined to predetermined standards of the world around us which categorize us based on our race, economic status, and ancestry. We must conform to these ideals to even “compete” with those already ahead because of their family linage or skin color. Sure doesn’t feel like the land of the free to me, more like a gold lined cage. It sure looks good from the outside but once inside your trapped, it’s a game. You’re constantly running from the large beast seeking to devour you, this is what I see out of my backdoor.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Lookin’ Out My Back Door.”

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