I know what you’re thinking,
Here goes another Muslim.
Preachin, teachin tryna change the way the world sees them.
But I’ll make this quick.
I’m NOT a refugee
Born in the south next to American Babies
Please tell me where the problems started..
Is it the way I dress in the land of the free?
Or is it my last name that makes everyone
Around me act so awkwardly?
We fear what we don’t know and fear what we can’t read
“It’s written in Arabic, so it MUST have some hidden coordinates
For the next terrorist attack.
Is this what America thinks?
I know what you’re thinking
Here goes another Muslim,
Preachin’ teachin’
Tryna change the way the world sees them.
But what am I supposed to say?
That I’ve been bullied all my life?
Left and right?
Well I can’t and I won’t,
Because that wouldn’t be the truth.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t get
Looks of disgust on the bus;
Every day
Every night
Every moment of my life
They sit there
Waiting, anticipating
For me to unload,
For the bomb under my scarf
To explode.
Explode.
Real Muslims don’t kill but they’ll never know
Because what the media says, goes
I don’t know if it’s just me but I’ve never
Heard the word American and Terrorist
In the same damn sentence
That’s because if there ever was any
They get deemed as mentally ill or
Put away for a few years but if it’s
A Muslim, African American, or Hispanic
Person they keep them ringing in our ears,
Increasing the fear.
Land of the free..?
But nothings ever free here.