Why is there shame?
    Why do we adopt a different tongue?
        Why do we call ourselves "ghetto not from this nation"

While Abuela rolls in her grave
  Each wrinkle a reminder of our greatness
      Each reminder  a moment of greatness once passed.

Do we call ourselves American to fit in?
   How do we face Montezuma,
      Our nation suffers and burns,
          Devils demonize
              Children Cry
                 Separated from mothers arms
                    In the name of Freedom!


So why is there shame?
    The rain a reminder of a tears of a once great nation
        Pillaged and burn our bodies became the bridge
          Our hands built this empire
             Our people yet are still slaves.

Where is the shame?
     Mother speaks in broken English
        Families laugh and our culture continues. . .

Stolen land, tears, indigenous **** time does not erase.
Nor should it erase our ANGER
But our people preach love not hate.
Once more we are beneath the masters boot.
Modern Day Slaves

But there is no shame,
for our culture exists,
even after the destruction of our once great state.