BackGround
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My DNA is filled with millionsHard life and killed civiliansThey dont want us in the streets We just tryna blend in...But we aint chameleons Cocked gun thats a wake up callBetter hope you dont get involvedShots fired tryna stand tall But the oppos
Coming here I felt ashamed being hispanic
I felt embrace speaking my native language
I try to hide my difference to the world
I’m from a world of broken dreams of false promises
My hand reaches out,
Yet, I couldn't touch what I wanted.
Is it because my goal is too high?
Am I not tall enough?
Was it too much to hope for,
So many thingsI'd never doare done and that is allthese many thingsI hate I've doneare done—I can't recall;But if I couldgo back in timeundo what I have wrought,would it still
No dad.
I'm not like brother,
nor like sister.
I don't get 4.0's,
or lots of friends.
I'm not a model,
or Ms. Perfect.
I am a person.
I am YOUR daughter.
I am me.
I am from t-shirts, from Dr. Pepper and iced tea.
I am from apartments and condos, dingy white walls, off-white carpets, amorphous popcorn ceilings, in which eyes can detect truth that fades into lies.
I am from my Dad’s trumpet calls announcing early church services
I’m from words and phrases composed with love and tears
From late night prayers kneeling by my bed wrapped in more than just my pink blanket
“I Am From”
I am from many nights spent on the pitch,
with blood holes and sweat galore, drenched upon its drips.
