I tried to hate you,
And it is true,
There are some things we cannot forgive,
But to us,
You are just a small boy with a penknife,
Carving his name into the bark of the world,
Hoping someone will remember his life.

We remember you,
And your big boat too
Remember how proud you looked,
For all that you were fleeing.
That's the one thing i don't get
You know how it felt,
How it feels to be hated,
To be treated as inferior,
But I guess that's just how you Europeans are.
Less of a Mayflower, more of a dandelion,
At first glance, bright and shiny and full of hope
The children, when they see you,
Run outside with shrieks of laughter,
Picking you,
Blowing on you,
Spreading your seeds.
And you repay them by growing everywhere,
To their utter joy,
And the next generations
Utter horror
When they see the vast expanse
Of weeds

That's the  irony of it-
Without us,
You would have died,
And without you,
We could have lived

But if I could do it over,
I would do it exactly the same.
Because if we had let you starve,
We would have been no better than you,
With your pointless persecution
And cruel execution 

We taught you everything you know,
And you accepted it,
Didn't question how or why.
You turned your back, left us to die,
But it's okay, now it's your turn
To live in this beautiful land of opportunity.
No, my child, do not question why,
For I do not know why the evil flourish and the good die
Just know that the land is yours, it is your time to fly