I'm not going to curse, and no I'm not going to break.
I'm going to rub it in right in your face that I'm not trash.
Who cares if you don't bother about my achievements?
The truth is, I'm not your little angel anymore. Yes, I'm rude and selfish, so what right?
the physical journey that i traverse
is the journey of the soul,
transport of the self from a fatherland
to a country collected by sight and mind.
the knowledge the sweats from it
is estranger's experience,
from one who had learnt to see, reflect
and choose between
the challenging actualities.
its true i have growled at my mother and
but only after having told them my predicament
that they have never brought to consideration
the wife that i began to love in my loneliness,
in the country that alienated me,
they enveloped in their pre-judgement.
i have not entirely returned, i know,
having been changed by time and place.
coarsed by problems
estranged by absence.
the ways of the rude,
to hold actuality in a new logic,
debate with hard and loud facts.
but i too
have humanity, respecting
man and life.
I am me,
I am not who you want me to be.