You see someone on the street
And as soon as you meet
You tell people you don’t mean to do it
But your mind shows that it’s accustomed to it.
You see a girl on the street,
As soon as you meet
You look at her,
and depending on the color,
You stop and think
White: “She must be smart, preppy, rich, athletic, happy...”
Hispanic: “Does she speak english?, Is she mexican?, does she even go to school?...”
Black: “ Will she hurt me?, Should I walk the other way?, Will she ask me for money?...”
But that is just the extra.
Can she not be just another girl?
Can she not be just as capable as you?
Why do you have to judge her too?
Can she not be going through the same things as you?
Can she not be hurting too?
You blame them.
But… who is them?
Are you not part of society?
Are you not part of them?
Them, the ones who show all your imperfections
And dare not shine any light on your perfections.
Them, the ones who judge by what they want to see
Instead of by what you could actually be.
Them, the ones who break the fragile
And the weak
Without having trouble trying to sleep.
Them, the ones who make the people we love
Fade to gray.
Them, the ones who try to help when it’s too late
And only because they don’t want to face the hate.
If you say you’re not them,
What are you doing to change their ways?
What, now you have nothing to say?
You see all these people?
When they came, they were peaceful
They thought this place was a bright future.
If only they would have said something sooner.
Many people want to work, such as citizens and immigrants
Because it’s not like they are being given any grants
But when they mention anything about jobs
people think they were taking them in mobs
Yet they ask for more money
They are powerful and are comfy
But immigrants and citizens still do not get paid enough
While they are the ones who sit on the money, do nothing, and act rough.
Society says that these people are stealing work
Honestly, they are just being a jerk.
But what I don’t understand is that these people in this society know English
Yet the ones who struggle with the language
They somehow seem to manage.
They provide for their family with time and effort
Still, their lifestyle seems to not get any better.
There is food and a place for them to sleep
But life is still very hard and it makes them want to weep
Because they know that the next generation will live the same way
Causing a cycle that stays that way every single day.
All this sorrow,
Because they are not willing to borrow.
Instead they break their backs
Packing boxes and other things into stacks.
Working the jobs that you are not willing to take
But yet the society is willing to create all this hate,
Towards the people that pick the food that you ate.
In the end, these people know that now this is their fate,
They know it won’t end, but still they continue to mend
A place that they try to pretend, still holds a place for them.
While all this happens
And you’re right in front of it,
Do you acknowledge it?
Do you try to stop it?
Or do you turn around
And pretend not to hear a sound?
They know you see it, see them
And they know you won’t stop it.
They see the fear in your eye
And they sigh
Because they know you will turn the blind eye.
You see it,
You hear it,
But yet, it seems like you don’t feel it.
Why can’t you understand we are all the same,
Inside and outside, and you could be the change.