They say my papers
Are nothing but air,
My birthright scattered—
Ain’t nobody care.
My skin speaks louder
Than any ID card;
Freedom comes easy—
But justice comes hard.
“You don’t belong here,”
They tell me again.
Born in the soil,
Yet treated like sin.
Homeland security—
Whose homeland, friend?
If my rights crumble,
Tell me, who defends?
When citizenship
Turns to dust on the floor,
Then freedom ain’t free—
Not free anymore.
Collateral damage
In a war I ain’t choose;
Born here to win,
Yet set up to lose.
What good’s a paper
That nobody reads,
When a badge and a cuff
Bring a man to his knees?
My country’s promise—
A ghost in the night.
Tell me again,
Who stands for my rights?
They say my papers
Are nothing but air.
Born into freedom—
But ain’t nobody care.
The Whispered Verse 