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In the shadows of our nation's promise, 
Some stand waiting, papers clutched in hand, 
While others cross where fences compromise, 
And find a different welcome in this land.

I've seen the tired faces at food banks, 
Veterans who fought beneath our flag, 
The elderly with medicine too dear, 
And families whose futures start to sag.

Not hatred for the stranger seeking hope,
But questions for a system out of tune,
That sometimes seems to overlook its own,
While others find their answers coming soon.

What justice means depends on where you stand—
The view looks different from the bottom rung.
When helping hands seem always out of reach,
It's hard to hear the songs of freedom sung.

A nation built on dreams must dream for all,
Not choose between its children and its guests.
The scales of fairness falter and they tilt
For corruption is the system democracy has built.

Perhaps one day we'll build a better way,
Where no one stands forgotten in the cold,
Where policy embraces every soul.

Until that day, the tensions pull us tight,
Two different truths, both painful and sincere
The struggle of belonging and of need,

Just another myth of the so called American
Dream, putting many to sleep.

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