Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2018
My blood tells me a different story to my soul.
My passport has a stamp I cannot recognize,
An accent invades my tongue that I cannot pinpoint-
I am from many worlds
And I sing the songs of many souls.

My scattered roots find a way to your lonely tree,
And in my own confusion
I become the master of empathy.
You're so called 'difficult' name rolls off my tongue
Effortlessly,
And I'll have you convinced that we are kin.
Your language
Your skin
Your culture
Is no barrier on the grounds
of those who know no bounds
To existence.
Sabika H
Written by
Sabika H  20/London
(20/London)   
676
   Jesse stillwater
Please log in to view and add comments on poems