Hijabi Gainster

Reblog if you are NOT a Donald Trump supporter.

Hello My Name Is immigrant  ; and I’m sorry the edges of my broken English are so sharp that they leave your ears bloody. My mouth is trying to swallow a whole other Tongue. Hello My Name Is  go back if you don’t like it here ; and I’m comprised of 3 jobs, in each I am invisible. I’ve slept under so many bridges, People ask if I’m a troll. I’m struggling to stitch a future from broken fragments of the past, crushing up parts of my self to make a paste and hold it all together. Last night I slept on Hope but I was blanketed by Fear. Hello My Name Is   … what are you even eating.. ; and the only time I can mimic safety is when I eat my homeland’s food. The soups are the waters where I swam for fun, the sautéed vegetables are the hills and trees I ran through, the spices are the twinkling stars at night. Sometimes, I forget the strength of the blood running, jumping, coursing, through my veins. Am I still worthy? Hello My Name Is   they’re all so dirty ; and my hands are cracked from the pressure, caked with the mud that comes from trying to make stubborn ends meet. I watch you stare at my odd clothes; your scared glances keep feeding a monster in me. The secret is: I balance precariously the line between the Yin and the Yang, neither one nor the other. Neither here, nor there. Too much of both to be at peace in a place other than a wanderer’s arms. Hello My Name Is immigrant ; And I’m Here, to stay.