Poems about Immigration
So tell me again how a piece of paper makes his tears any less real. Tell me how ink translates to all this blood shed.
Clothes of cardboard, Souls of stone Cracked faces with the tears it once shone Walking in the darkness
She walks alone on A crowded street, with nothing And everything on her mind.
Dark, dusty, desolate night,
Within the first month When I went to school in America
My grandfather, Roberto Hercules Gándola, has instilled within me the fortitude to take on unfamiliar challenges.