Song bird

As the days go by I become more accustomed to this alien feeling, on a walk in this concrete jungle a face in a faceless crowd in a city where I’m unfamiliar with just about everything, isn’t that why I’m here? To find a place where no one knows how to pronounce my name as it has also lost its meaning where I came from. As I walk this city streets I can’t help to call to mind everything that makes an alien out of me. Walls that are too thin to contain my pigin language, food too bland for my sweet tongue accompanied with fire alarms not the designed for the meals that set my taste buds on fire bringing them to life. Clothes too thick because the winter wind too cruel on my melanin and I don’t know the accent to convey my loneliness to everyone around me so they can all understand. But I am thankful for a system that works, provides brand new iPhone monthly payments, minimum wage that puts a roof over my head with constant electricity, subtle racism which is a whole lot more than people can’t have regardless of their social status. And when summer comes the songbird takes flight from a land where they speak of change but everything is still the same as it has always been it lands on a tree outside my window singing a tune it learned from my mothers lips, reminding me I’m still a whole person in a faceless crowd.