You are not one of them. Please remember that.
Your colour is different, your religion is different - the way you speak, the way you act, the way you think, the way you even breathe. You are not them.
You are not one of them. You go to college there, you study there, you write your essays and you do your business there. That's all good, really - but you are not one of them.
Please remember that. You don't matter to them - and the funny thing is - that you don't matter to your own people here either. You don't belong to them, and you don't belong to us either. That's what I'm afraid of. That's why I don't want to go study abroad.
I want to stay here. I'm afraid, mom. I know if I try I can get into Harvard, but what if they kill me? What if they shoot me while I'm going to pray? What if they think I'm a terrorist? What if they say that my skin is brown and they don't like me? I'm so afraid, dad.
It's misery. I always thought that once she went there - once she got to the US - things would solve themselves. The US is it it here.
Why is she so miserable? Because she's too different. Please remember, my dear sister. You are not one of them.
You are not one of them.
And you will never be.
YOU ARE READING
Bleeding Hearts
Poetry"You either get it down on paper or jump off a bridge." - Charles Bukowski Just snippets of stories I can't seem to get out of my head. All cover credit goes to the wonderful @mydearcc
