That summer day, my face was as bright as the sun No butterflies in my stomach, no being displayed A joyous occasion, as if it were Christmas We rode the big steel yellow monster for a time I begin to smell the air as it races past The promised land, was in my boney little hands I erupted out of my shackles and moved on locked on the greatest wonder the land had produced transparent to my glare, but lively to my touch as if I were an old man’s hairline, I recede my heart has the rhythm of a drum, who can hear a symbol of hope, clasp my arm, I breath again
All things that kept me amused, slowly seemed to fade away with the pluck of a guitar string.
I just look out of my window. See the blinds to my right sway with nature’s undying breath.
Taunting me… That undying breath calling me. Appealing to my weakened self. I move my hand to caress the barrier. I catch a glimpse of myself through the window. My face resets
I sink slowly back to my chair. I see the blue butterflies pass left to right. I keep staring with bloody eyes. They’re all too pretty. It burns but I can’t look away. Then my neighbor comes out to throw trash outside and they disappear.
All gone so fast that it didn’t register. *sigh*. Mother… Ah forget it.
Ran away and we can now be free Free of bullets, deaths, and stealings, Free of all the pain and suffering Finally able to live the dream but We’re surrounded by thousands of screams “GO HOME YOU’RE NOT WELCOMED HERE”
Who’s going to tell them we were here first Who’s going to tell them our roles were reversed Children taken from their homes kicking and screaming Forced to say goodbye wishing they were dreaming In cages cold as they lie on the cement floor Their faces stained with streaks of tears
Women raped and beaten Their hope is weakened Day by day going insane Treated in ways that are inhumane Guards stand still with no expression I wonder aren’t they tired of oppression
We try to fight but always fall short My people getting killed while on their hustle All this anger for lack of a green card We work hard but some die trying Our names line the streets of L.A We want to be equals but we might never see that day