"I Have a Dream of a Taller Wall..."

I dream that the country I live in will love me

Like I have loved it.

I am grateful

But how has my country,which I left everything behind for been grateful back

By fitting me into a group, calling me a rapist

When I am not even an illegal.

By bombarding me with microaggresions

"Wow you speak English so well," it has told me.

Meaning it has judged whether I was "American" enough.

Meaning it has stripped me of something I had found so essential in my identity.

I moved to America when I was five.

Yet, now when I look to my country and ask for it to help

It looks back 

not at me, but rather away from me.

It turns a blind eye to the injustices I am going through.

Do I not have an unalienable right to life?

Or did I happen to miss something in the fineprint?

It's funny, but it's true, I might as well be an actual alien.

Since the foreign looks people have given me sure seemed aimed towards one.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country

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