¡Mamá! I shouted. It was so wonderful to see
someone familiar again.
The guards, white as abuela’s
mejillas, Stared at me as I ran
down The hallway of the
enclosure.
I saw my mamá and papá,
Tears in their eyes, We
sprinted towards each other,
As though we were
maratonistas Breaking
through the ribbon,At the
finish line.
Earlier this year, We had decided to go to
the land of the Gringos, Live the American
Dream – el Sueño Americano.
But mamá and papá were taken from
me – No, I was taken from them.
All of a sudden I felt these hands around me, As
though my abuelito was hugging me, His warm
chubby hands holding me As the smell of pan
dulce – sweet bread, engulfed us both.
But something was different about those hands,
They hurt.
I looked behind me and saw a man, half
hombre half toro.
I tried to pull away to no avail – And
screamed, “Mamá, papá
ayúdenme”
Suddenly memories flashed through my head The
tortillas we used to make together, The time we spent
looking at the sunset, at my favorite playa And the
smell of my abuelitos… And then the memories
disappeared.
It occurs to me now that I won’t be there
anymore, Under the sol mexicano, Laughing
and eating tamales with my cousins, Tíos,
tías, abuelos, abuelas, and other relatives.
And now I might never even fulfill the
so-called Sueño Americano.
The wind lifts and swirls,
waking up the slumbering world.
Flowers bathe in the mellow sun,
brushing their blushed faces.
Behind the cold metal bars,
I perch
with despair.
My legs are fettered
and my wings are wounded
by the bullet of power,
caging my freedom.
I have torn my throat
and rasped my voice,
exhausted and desperate.
Freedom flaps its wings,
leaving me without a goodbye.
I dislike Douches and Dumbasses
Math, Spanish, and Science classes
I hate Hats and Horses
Homework, Textbooks, and failing my Courses
I’m not fond of Frantics and Fakes
Fat Cats, Head-, and Stomach-Aches
Don’t like Losers and Liars
Rain, Pickles, and singing in Choirs
I criticize Cancer and Cottage Cheese
Pigeons, Planes, and Alzheimer’s Disease
I despise Dunkins and Drama
Writing, Citing, and Striped Pyjamas
Why these things disgust me?
I don’t know; it seems outrageous, I see
Maybe it’s me that has a problem.
A girl named June sat in her room
Wanting a better computer
She worried ‘bout wins, and her new roblox wings
Things like ponies, they meant nothing to her.
Her parents knew
She cared not for shoes,
Or dolls, hair brushes or new makeup hues
All it seemed she wanted to do
Was play games,
and she won at them too
She killed dragons in minecraft, as she fell through the days
And played fortnite for hours as she wasted away
She’d get money from wins,
And buy all the skins
But she always just seemed to want more
Her parents tried to stop this fool,
They made lots and lots and lots of rules,
But every time they would try to make rules
She’d answer “thank you kanye, very cool”,
And they tried and tried, rule after rule
But just never seemed to get through
She wasn’t too keen on much but TV
She’d sit for hours and hours
Watching Spongebob and Gary
While she drank her Sprite cranberry
Wasting and wasting away
She began skipping school
And breaking the rules,
Just to stay home and play one more game
And all the doctors they went to, they tried and tried in vain
For not a single one could set upon to tame the young girl’s brain
Her doctor, he wanted to ask her why she’d started to vape,
She turned to him, with a sly little grin
And said “They did surgery on a grape”
The doctors knew what had happened too,
They tried and tried to get it through
The parents did not want to see
To let it through their heads
That they didn’t have a little girl, but a teenage boy instead.
Let them be as tranquil, placid ponds.
Always still, calm,
quietly dignified
but never changing.
I’d rather be an ocean on a stormy day,
tumultuous and in flux, like the universe we live in.
Our world does not stop,
does not pause
to take a breath.
Why should I try to be any different?
To have been alone
with nothing else but the windy,
storm-grey sky,
rising and falling
as gusts blow back and forth.
To be respected, not as consistent or serene
or even wise but as dynamic, a thing of energy.
A blustery sea.
I’d rather be unconstrained and abrupt,
and if then puzzling
or even alienating
to those who encounter me,
then to be calm and agreeable, the placid pond
where tranquility is guaranteed,
but change and the power to act is not.
Let their stories be written as diaries.
Always with perspective and thoughtfulness
But guarding concealed secrets,
Hiding behind a seemingly perfect facade.
I’d rather my story be an open book.
Free and brave, like a bird
Rising above trivial conflict
To soar across the clear blue sky.
To have expressed my motivations,
To be honest and kind
To be loyal and unwavering
A trustworthy and understanding companion.
I’d rather them see my colors
Than lock away my thoughts.
If I could stand tall and true,
I would rather be an open book.
Let them be as volcanoes
always fiery and blazing
but turning land into coal.
I’d rather be a mountain
tucked in with the others like a single snowflake
falling down with so many.
To have broken away from the others,
to stand tall and proud.
To be blanketed in snow
or glisten in the sun.
I’d rather be cold and hidden, and if
then shivering instead of an uncontrollable madness
than to be a ball of flames
where lives are destroyed
by their own decisions.
I’d rather be serene
than angry and always seen.
If I could hide within myself under the sky
I’d rather be a mountain than the other kind.
I have a few issues.
I’m always stressed,
I procrastinate and
I’m ignorant.
It takes too much time for me
To process information.
I hide emotions because
They can be too complicated.
Sometimes I feel too
Mature for my own good,
And high school science
Isn’t really my strong suit.
But I don’t care.
Because I’m still happy,
Positive, formal,
and caring.
I have a few issues.
But who doesn’t?
Despite my flaws,
I like who I am.
I am a tumbleweed,
Rolling with the gentle push of the wind,
Strolling by to see what is going on,
In the old western town,
Down by the saloon.
I have a seat,
Have a chat,
Until the breezes pulls me out.
Out the two wooden doors,
Got to go somewhere else.
Out in the open, Where it is
Just the horizon and a clear blue sky.
But sometimes I want to settle
And relax. No can do,
Winds picking up, just got to
Keep on rolling.