I could have chose to do a masterpiece, an illustration, which I did, a video or something way out of the imagination. Yet, I choose to do a poem. Now, I won’t make it difficult like the great William Shakespeare, nor the powerful diction of John Milton, nor like the passionate Emily Dickenson. I will do it base out of my own sight. Funny question, you should ask, because I am on my own not in support but in believe and perseverance. The promise land to where many hold their dreams. Apparently did not kept its promise. Where else but the home of the free, to many it has become their new patriotism. Poor fouls, for they are what they believe but not what the land claims of them. If fitting in the crowd with no actual recognition does it really state your identity? Do thou have been approved and still fouled with acts of hatred that are defined as mere jokes? Work, think, cry, fear, act as if it was not of your opinion but base on what your typical white neighbor would say, run! And hide! Protect yourself and your family because perfection does not have sins. Ask if not thyself part of this land? If so, why is it that thou has to run, cry, fear, and hide?
Is there an actual definition of an American? Because if there is, then it applies to all who live in America. Well like they say in the movies life is not a fairy tale. And what we have been declined to is no happy ending. We are not defined as hard workers, intelligent and successful, proud and a great friend that is both supportive and loyal. No! Instead we are declined to thieves, liars, and a mutual object that serves others and could withstand horrible living conditions. And treatment you ask? Well treat them however thou please. We, with no choice to take, we let ourselves into the trap. Like a mouse that is persuade by the piece of cheese because he needs it for survival, yet gets trap by a mousetrap. The mouse gets the food but he can’t go against the trap or even leave the trap. Now, I end with this statement, “America the land of hopes and dreams, dreams that are there but fear to reveal themselves, and hopes that live but are trap”. The same hopes and dreams that build this land are essentially kept out and are only available in the eyesight of an immigrant. This is the eyesight of an American.
