What do you see, when you see me?

Someone from here? Noo. Foreign, surely

From a weird country, across the sea.

A hindu, a buddhist? Maybe a commie.

Your assumptions are all you need.

I steal jobs and ideas, because of greed.

I’m yet another mouth to feed.

I am a parasitic weed.

Well, I’m none of those things, and I’ll tell you what else I’m not.

I'm not good at math

I don't eat dogs or cats,

I don't drink soup with bats,

but still I am attacked.

for the color of my skin,

for some unknown sin

me and my kin

we're told we don't fit in

we take it on the chin,

we try to put on a grin,

but deep down in-side we are dying

dying of anguish, grief, fright.

splashed with acid, set alight.

punched and kicked day and night.

gunned down in broad daylight.

but it was just a bad day, so its alright

should I “go back to my country”, hop on a flight?

sometimes, I think I just might

after all… here I’m unheard, out of sight

doesn't anyone see our plight?

Don't we have a right... to live?