la flor crecida

Being A Hispanic was hard

The black sheep they say, the same but different 

Looked at ashamed by the ones we call our people 

looked at different by the country we said was united

Treated as if we came from another planet waiting to destroy every individual 

They said we were equal

As our brothers and sisters got arrested and beat because they spoke a different language 

As the volcano disrupts our village that we have made with peace 

As we live in a country that says we have freedom yet it’s nowhere to be found

We come with our culture and traditions and viewed as loud and disruptive 

I love and love and all I get back is hate and abuse

I smile and laugh but inside is the waterfall that wants to leak through my eyes

I know we are different but the blood and organs god as provided says otherwise

See we are no different we bleed and cheer and cry because we are all humans because we are only women and men

And yet after I poured my thoughts into the soil to grow the divergent of flowers

We would still be stepped on as if we never grew

My flowers and stems were stepped on 

But the seed kept growing into a bouquet

My black fur was shaved 

But my fur kept growing into a beautiful curly coat

Growing up Hispanic is hard but that doesn’t stop me!