second generation

person holding clear glass ball
Photo by Nizam Abdul Latheef on Pexels.com

 


i can hold my own in a conversation not in my language /
because i’ve learnt it, piecemeal, in response to demand /

but wait – it should have been my language all along, right /
and the fact that it isn’t /
is actually my fault /
and the fault of this (overly) free country i was born in /
and the fault of the experiences that just don’t seem to line up /

it’s amazing how wrong you can feel /
about your life that is supposedly so right /
and how you have to be a different person in each of your circles /
so that no one will know the many ways in which you don’t fit in /

it’s both maddening and heartbreaking to know /
that you’ll never be good enough /
for the people who supposedly resemble you the most /