Confessions of an Immigrant
I don’t belong anywhere:
Back home I don’t fit in
Back home I’m not good enough
Back home I don’t feel artistic
Back home I’m bored
Back home I’m invisible to my family-
Which is what hurts the most.
In here I’m an object
In here I’m a piece of paper
In here I’m a set of regulations
In here I’m in or out of status
In here I lose my freedom-
Which is what hurts the most.
Back home I’m a freak show,
In here I’m an alien.
Back home I’m superfluous,
In here I’m worn out.
Back home I feel anxious,
In here I feel anxious.
I don’t belong anywhere:
People say to look within,
But how can I create myself
If my future was preset
the day I was born?
Because the world is set up
only for supremacies.
And everyday I wake up
With this tension pounding down my shoulders
For I am afraid to go back home
And I am afraid to stay here
And time is this concept
Nipping on the back of my head
And my lungs are a deflating balloon
Because it doesn’t really feel like I’m breathing much
my chest is compressed
and all I want to do is give up
I don’t belong anywhere:
still all I want to do is go back home-
And cradle amongst my mother’s arms
still all I want to do is stay in here-
And have fulfilling adventures
Above all, what I I really really want to do-
Is have a choice.
