Poems about Immigration
Her aching bones are broken more than ever before.
I see her struggle every day just to make things better than okay.
I kept asking myself every night, why her.
Why MY mom. She's struggled to set food on the table
For all four of us.
The way he smiled,
It got to me.
Leftover mangu,
Extra salami,
Say cheese.
Hello to everyone who reads this. My name is Alexandr Socolov. I’m from Moldova, Chisinau.
fresh fruit in the day
broken bodies by the night
let's give them their rights
People will never understand.
People will never understand unless they’re in the same situation.
I am boy
I am 18 year old
I am went to school everyday
Ever the day, I was sick
I try to do my best
I drive past the dirt houses
Each one passes by into distant memory
But I can't forget the people living there