I come from a people who have faced famine, hunger, starvation, death, protest,






civil unrest, guirella warfare, violence, and hurt
The native people, who were invaded, exploited, enslaved, given no choice but to




migrate, and lived in cold cells meant for criminals
My race turned to God, drink, and cigarettes and turned bitter, harsh, and dark toward a



world that ignored their cries for justice and help


And yet they have never been mentioned in a history textbook

I go back to the land that I came from

They look at me with cold eyes

Hardened over time

Nobody speaks up anymore

Because no one else has an ear
There is no motivation
The fire has died out

And I am meant to be one of them

Unfortunately, I escaped

I am the betrayer

the backstabber

don’t speak of me

I am a disgrace

my named is cursed

The Lord that knows all spits on the ground in front of me

Apparently I am not enough