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.
Copyright © Remi Stan | Year Posted 2014
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