Who am I?
Even though I’m an immigrant,
Do I wear the brand of an immigrant?
The tones that are woven into me, targets my variety
It pinpoints me, shouting as an immigrant.
The common casualties embraces the free
As options are fleeting as an immigrant.
The promises of opportunities slowly go ablaze
Is this the land of the free for an immigrant?
Like me! Maybe, I’m playing tug-a-war with my identity
Would my ancestors be shamed if I say, I’m not an immigrant?
Can I dispose of the crumbs that mimics the way I talk?
Or do I follow it back home, as an immigrant?
I love it here, It’s where I belong, It’s now rooted in me,
But I can’t forget the person that will always be, an immigrant.