I feel like an immigrant

I feel like an immigrant, if you know what I mean.
Having no real place to stay, and having no dreams.
I move around from place to place,
not having a real place to go.
I wedge myself in little space,
not having a real home.
I feel like an immigrant, if you know what I mean.
Always having to run, never truly being free.
Having to be tough, never let out a tear.
Because we are strong and taught,
to never ever have fear.
Every morning we wake up, not knowing if it's our last.
Because with one mistake,
we just get sent back.
With struggle, pain, and sacrifice,
we leave our families behind.
Just so we can work in hell,
our owners never satisfied.
The worst part of feeling like an immigrant is having to resist the violence.
That's put upon us we get blamed.
We scream.
And cry.
In silence.