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i wasn’t born in this city

it becomes obvious when my accent accidentally sneaks in during a conversation

i wasn’t born in this city

my brown skin and thick curly hair are proof of that

or perhaps it is made obvious by my preference for cuisine decorated with exotic spices

i wasn’t born in this city

freedom was not given on a silver platter

it was something that was dreamt of

dreams accompanied by protests and riots

where unwillingness for change was common

it served as a constant reminder

that I wasn’t born in this city

collision of dreams, languages, and cultures

a loss of identity

i wasn’t born in this city

but this city is become home

despite the roots of my heart belonging  to a foreign land

thank you for the being the city where I belong