Nationality, Identity

Look at me, what do you see?

A picture of average nationality,

American girls in picture books.

Come here, come closer and take a look!

All you see: brown hair, blue eyes,

Coming in at five foot five!

What a picture! What a jewel!

But look again, I break the rule.

This land is your land, is it mine?

Parents set out on a mission divine –

Seek and save the lost, but me?

No longer can claim an identity.

Am I American? Perhaps by birth,

But deep inside, for what it’s worth,

I’m something special, something new.

Lived in two countries, this much is true.

Grew up in both, learned the ways of the other…

Now which of you should I call my brother?

For I blend in with one, but the other you see

Feels more like home and family to me.

A culture familiar, a language that falls

From the tip of my tongue with no problem at all.

Now what is authentic? What is true?

Because my facts will not be construed.

Yet here is my truth, for better or worse,

I have no home, this is my curse.

My burden, my struggle, my cross to bear,

A wound so deep that can never repair.

So though I bleed this red, white, and blue

I can still find it hard to relate to you.



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