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 could have been my language all along, right
and the fact that it isn’t
is the fault of experiences that even with good reason,
just don’t seem to quite line up
it’s amazing how wrong you can feel
about your life that is supposedly so right
and how you are 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 you supposedly resemble the most
nor of the west 