And he said to me, with tears in his eyes…
I feel shame, ashamed of myself, ashamed of my origin, unproud of my heritage. I want to flee, I wish i could undo it all, choose my birth place, decide my origin, my home land. They said be proud of who you are, but then I ask my self, what exactly should I take pride in. I struggle twice more than others, I hustle thrice as hard as others, I pray thrice more than others, yet with little or nothing to show for it. Someone please help me…
The system is designed to make me miserable, push me till I fall off the edge of sanity, bend me till I break. I’m haunted where ever I go, as a foreigner I am rejected, I am watched and scrutinised closely like a criminal, denied entry, privileges stripped. In my home land, I am a fugitive, a wanderer, no hope of making a living, I am forced to choose between a life of vice that pays, or a just life of poverty. Somebody save me, this isn’t the life I dreamed of…
They don’t know the pain I feel, they don’t understand how disadvantaged I feel being born to this land. I guess they have all they want, deep pockets and high positions, investments and luxuries, security and power, for them and their families. A meal for all, feeds a few, neglecting those like me with nothing. A degree with no means of livelihood, the strength and will to work but no jobs. Even entrepreneurs need a base for a start, I look around and i can’t find any. Someone help me…
With every passing day, it gets worse, more hunger, more absence, more hardship. My home land is becoming more frustrating and uninhabitable. If the outside world rejects me and my home land haunts me, then what should I do, where should I go. Growing up I had dreams, but the older I got, the more my dreams faded away, now my reality is a nightmare I have to live. Somebody, please save me…
Emmalase.
Emmalase