O Say! Can You, Like, Not

in lieu of a new administration,

america's young immigrants are facing a sort of... frustration.

through broken occasion and high school graduation,

by hell and high water and maturation,

it doesn't take long for the devestation to kick in:

O! say, the debt, the loans!

"it's not like we expect you to do it on your own!"

i went to college for the education,

for job opportunity and the elimination

of toxic people from home;

to get dollar and coin to do what i love, but instead, the legislation

has rocked the boat.

to the point where i don't even feel like it's worth it.

besides, it feels like they threw money at me for not being perfect

(perfect: (adj.) white, male, business major.

country music singing, back road slinging, carrie underwood look alike dater).

as a women i'll still get a fraction of the pay,

work twice as hard and at the end of the day it'll still be useless.

plus, i'm not white, so the chances of me getting a job are less

than that white girl from Hunter or

(to compensate) that hispanic kid from UTHealth @ Houston.

O! the anthem of the middle would be more representative,

but again, i have no say;

i can point out reasons why america's job selection process is detrimental

to my community, any month, week, day.

but no one cares about me,

no matter how well I do.

instead, they pay for my college

(probably because they think my parents were born in timbuktu),

all

because the administration is new.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country

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