I feel like Christian Bale
in that one movie
"Am I... the American ******?"

the emic and etic personas
collapse in pantomime
like how the Donald destroyed democracy and civil rights for four years.

I feel like the average citizen
who has no choice but to vote
so that I don't get deported once again

There is this pair of sweatpants,
they sit in the bottom left drawer of my dresser.
Sometimes
I like to picture myself wearing them.

That comfortable,
snuggly feeling.
Like a warm hug
from an old friend
you used to crush on.

It's such an out there concept,
- but imagine if it happened.
Me
wearing those sweatpants
from the bottom left drawer of my dresser.
Or that black hoodie
that my mom got me two Christmases ago
the one that she special purchased because so it'd fit just right
Or any stained shirt ever
one that you can wear for comfort at home
because finally no one is watching.

I learned young
to button-up
so that there wouldn't be
as many eyes watching me today
so i can go and buy my favourite candy
from that gas station down the street.

And I always wondered
why some people's sunday best
was my only way to feel normal.

I was about 10
when I learned
that wearing comfortable
might get me stopped
by the police today.

I guess this is what it's like
to be true
north
strong
and free.

Sometimes I am naked
and look at myself.
My tan skin looks less brown than it looks grey
like ashes;
Perhaps it's grey like the burned cultures,
the damages traditions
and bombarded destinies.

When I put my dark hand
onto someone's fair skin
I see the ashes
and I'm reminded of histories we'll never get to cherish.

I hear it
Again and again
I do not “function“
Like the rest

Every day
Is a battle
Will I hurt?
Will I move?
Nonetheless, I have to function

Even when I can‘t

I eat pills
For breakfast
Like greed personified
I swallow them - I do not chew.

I eat pills like candy but how can I help it?

My body is aching
My muscles are trembling
Is this addiction
Or is this dependence

How am I different
From someone who cant
Live without drugs
Because it causes them pain
When I eat my candies
To dull my agony

I eat pills like candy
I must be a sweet tooth
Yet I don‘t enjoy it
But others believe that I have to

eyes on my skin
hands on my hair

eyes on my words
hands on my thoughts

eyes on my home
hands on my rights

eyes on my fun
hands on my slog

eyes on my past
hands on my fate

eyes on my womb
hands on my kin

Grass, truly greener
when one side's left to rot

But, then again  
that is exactly what you profit off

Despite suffering from illness,
****** assault from a once trusted individual,
being told I do not belong in my own country,
and shoved away by supposed peers and professor at my institution,

I remain.
As steadfast as ever,
protecting my place, country, and
family.

No matter how exhausted
or how shattered my current frame of reality may be,
I never cheat on my schoolwork or exams
like the same peers who belittle me.

Me, who is there:
patiently waiting,
always the last,
seeking help after another misstep;

Nonetheless,
diligently remaining on track,
amidst the others descended from the Esteemed,
Who continue the cyclic tradition of oppression.

While I acknowledge that
the absence of refuge
for the trodden
has existed for many centuries,

and even myself as of now,
I understand it to be ill-gotten privilege
I may have stolen
from another applicant more promising than me;

I remain in
This Place
amongst books
and the International Royalty.

Beginning from
such atrocities
in both blood, home, and later within the educational institution,
I never had any interest in making a name for myself.

I did not apply to college because I was told to—
it is because I was predominantly told the opposite.
Facing the shouting and dismissals
from those closest in blood and esteemed teachers at school.

In this time of a loosening socioeconomic hierarchy,
finally exposing the Freedoms of this Nation
Our Ancestors could never dream of,
We Must Remain, Learn, and Fight!

Revel in how
Unfulfilled we are,
Remain Loyal to your well-established Ideals,
and Fight!

Black dirt lays on my hands
The soil that lays there is where I advance
It smells, its manure
I’m the farmer, the one, the grower
I pick a plot
Think of thoughts
Things go by in and out of my mind
I’m stuck to choose where to plant the roots of time
My time cannot be wasted
Like the soil, the dirt, I taste it
I can taste it in my feet
The ground I stand on
Perhaps I’m the plant that my life has cared for
To water, to bring sunlight, that constant care
To talk, to be there, my life to cheer on

I’m but one farmer in this world of carefree
To be or not to be, I cannot please all, so do I become the enemy?
The land of the free, from which I stand all
Planted my roots, and that I’ve prayed on
I was born here, a seed like others that were planted
I grow out of the help of others, I shouldn’t take the help for granted
Though like others I may fall on the granite…pavement, blacktop, and sidewalk
I make my own way;
Things I may say,
The things I may do

I’m not a bad person
You can tell by the view
Well maybe if you trust me
I’m no stranger than you
Overall no matter by my color
A flower is a flower
At least smell it first
Judge after…
No, why judge at all
Get to know instead of pushing away
That’s really all I’ve got to say