Misfit

I been to many places and done many things
I’ve been many persons,
all in one,
yet not quite a person at all.
I’m whoever you want me to be,
while figuring out who I am for myself.
I'm not American to the Americans.
Nor am I Egyptian to the people of my motherland.
I mean the people of my mother’s land.
The hood in me ain’t my native tongue,
but is being a native of any place in my birthright?
The world is my home,
yet I’m a wanderer of lands.
Show me where the yellow brick road is.
I’ve gotten lost a million times,
but is it getting lost,
or just finding a new path?
I been flying for as long as I remember,
but yea, you right,
I ain’t got wings.
I sit down on top of wings.
Like a magic carpet ride!
I’m Aladdin or Sinbad if my magic carpet was a plane ride.
I know I’m not the only person feelin like a misfit.
It isn’t something we wear.
Not like wearing misfitting clothing.
Not a matter of a train of thought that keeps misfiring against the norm.
I’ve learned recently that my misfiring train of thought is a wake up call that God’s been using to remind others of life.
I been claimed by the Almighty.
You can call me whatever you want,
I ain’t what people say I am.
I been called higher and told better.
I am who I Am calls me.
On the daily of that struggle of remembering who I’m made to be
The puzzle piece that fits into every picture I’m put in,
to complete what the picture is supposed to be.
I’m a chameleon who sticks out like a sore thumb!
Yea I know it’s an oxymoron or is it just the reality paradox of my people?