Poor Travellers

Came to this country little suitcase in hand For a better life in this wonderful land Pockets were sort of empty but he mentally planned 7 days of school-work as he desperately could, To send money back to care for his family Found a Haitian princess to live ever happily Then something happened I came about gradually But actually, I was second in line My sibling was the first to cry through birth It was I who naturally did all to hurt Playing with greens acting a jerk Misdemeanors causing people’s blood vessels to burst. Gone are the days where I grew up in church Went from being colorful to emphasizing the darkness of my worth My mind used to be free now it has the same shackles of a slave Dreaming of unfathomable thoughts- the sum of my fears Half a time ago the world’s producers of pure tears Alone in this world I tricked myself into believing that no one really cared.