Two Sides

I am 2 out of 1.

I have two sides.

One always hides.

 

1 ethnicity.

2 nationalities.

Separated by a giant sea.

 

A foreigner in one.

A misfit in the other.

Where are my sisters and brothers?

 

My tongue is tied in confusion.

Afraid to speak and make a mistake.

I stay silent and awake.

 

A balancing act is tiring.

I’m sorry I don’t speak right.

I’m sorry that it’s a long flight.

 

It’s not that I prefer the other.

But I wish I was surrounded by own.

Instead of always waiting by the phone.

 

I miss the smell of mornings.

I miss the melodies of my people.

My other people.

 

I don’t have what you all have.

Food, music and your people constantly around you.

I’m forced to make things do.

 

It’s hard to fit in.

I butcher four languages to get by.

All the words make me cry.

 

I am 2 out of 1.

I have two sides.

One always hides.

 

1 ethnicity.

2 nationalities.

Separated by a giant sea.

 

But I shouldn’t complain.

I know more than most.

Although I shouldn’t boast.

 

I am grateful because I have two homes.

 

I should not have to prove my ethnicity to anyone. I know who I am.

-Christina Aguilera

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