writerfromva

"You want your rights?"

"Come and get it," said the snake.

It was wrapped around a tree

in the confines of his tail,

a paper labeled "YOUR RIGHTS."

I stared up at the snake,

Two years ago, my home was Beijing

Even though I moved away ten years ago.

Two years ago, I longed for inclusion

for that tingle that made my skin

burn bright with belonging.

You ask me where is my home.

Miami. I need a flight to Miami. I couldn't stand the cold anymore. It was the beginning of January, the home of freezing temperatures and perpetually gray skies.

I had woken up in the middle of the night, craving cinnamon rolls. So, there I was, at 3 in the morning, dragging myself to the grocery store, still dressed in my fuzzy dinosaur pajamas.

You hope for my demise,
but I refuse to fall.

You push me,
but I refuse to stay down.

You want to see me broken,
but I refuse to give you the satisfaction.