Products Of Our Environment

Hey! Boy, do you know me?
Hahaha, nooo, you've seen me here before; before you called me "Sir".
Boy, you shall not address me on such formal bases.
My name is a chronology, I AM a story, not a symbol.
These belongings are stage props; the World, a theatre.
Life is a play, no, a dance; perhaps, more fittingly, a motif never to be mistaken for a portrait of the moment I was framed.
Boy, boy, boy, I doubt that you really know.
You confuse me for a Saint :)
Do light skin, straight hair, sharp features, and clean clothes make me somewhat superior?
Or is it you? YOU who just FEELs small?
Because my Afrikaans is your English, do you feel a need to whisper?
I wear sneakers, you prefer Sebagos, but our paths aren't any different.
You see, good sir, respect is in the eYes of the Beholded.
And for as long as blood is red, air is breath, and we share the same sun, we are brothers in Origin, otherwise, simple statistical stigmas of our environment.