To be German
I’m German.
I’m proud of my country.
But when I meet other people from other countries,
They look strange to me.
I know why,
But I don’t want to know it.
Sometimes they ask me
If it’s okay for me to be German.
And I go quietly away.
I don’t want to believe
Why they ask me this.
But they ask me this question again
And I ask them, why they can’t forget the history.
Why don’t they understand that the Germans are not the same like 70 years ago ?
They call me mean names,
And I try not to hear these names.
I try to explain them all these things
But they don’t listen to me.
When I’m back at home. I think everything is okay and nobody cares what happened.








But when I go again out of my country,
They look at me,
And I feel the same,
Like before.
They don’t understand how I feel.
When they talk about this time,
I look away.
But they don’t listen to me.
When I say something, they call me Nazi,
Or they say that I am racist,
And they laugh
They ask me why Germans are so racist,
And I try to find an answer.
But before I can say something,
They ignore me, and say that I’m like everyone else in Germany.
I ask them, if they can’t see that they are acting like racist
And I ask myself again why they can’t forget the history
And tears are building in my eyes.