Not Enough

I did everything right

I stayed quiet

I stayed small

I learned your words

I learned your rules

I learned how not to fall

I grew up on your streets

On your promises

On borrowed hope

Now you’re saying “go back”

Like I’ve got somewhere left to go

Where do I go

When “home” is a story

And not a place

When the only flag I know

Is burned into my face

You say it’s just the law

Like that makes it clean

Like you didn’t watch me grow

Like you didn’t teach me how to dream

I’m not a headline

I’m not a threat

I’m not the thing you’re scared of yet

I’m a kid you watched grow up

Now you’re trying to forget

I’m scared of the night

Scared of the knock

Scared of the word “deported”

Like it’s not a sentence

Like it’s not a coffin

Like it’s not loaded

You say “go home”

But home is fire

Home is ghosts

Home is gone

I didn’t run toward something better

I just ran from what was wrong

Tell me how I’m illegal

When I bleed like you

Tell me how I don’t belong

When I sound like you

When I pray like you

When I break like you

I work, I wait, I hope, I beg

I hold my breath inside my chest

Every siren feels like a verdict

Every night feels like my last test

If I disappear

Will you even notice

Will my name stay stuck in your throat

Or will I just be another number

Another “shouldn’t have been here” quote

I’m tired of proving I’m human

I’m tired of earning air

I’m tired of being grateful

For a life that’s always scared

I don’t want special treatment

I don’t want your pity

I just want tomorrow

In the place that made me me

Don’t send me back

Don’t erase me

Don’t pretend you don’t know

I grew up here

I loved here

I learned how to hope

I’m still here

I’m still breathing

I’m still begging you—

See me