I see the soldiers and yet, freedom is not a lover I have held in many nights.
He is an alluring archetype of all my desires

He is the peace of mind I wish to have at night.
When my skin turns to ragged pieces of cloth that used to ring peace
She is the one who carries me to a bed filled with corruption but to only whisper "This is the land of opportunity"
My body is a temple, but one long forgotten by the immigrants that built me

He holds my trembling body to see the scars of the tags that were placed upon me as a child.
Peeling back my skin, but to no avail
To his family, I am still only a colored person who is not one of them.
Although I am what he says he wants, those who prosper in his love are always those of fair skin.

I am not the one he truly wants
He says that the broken parts are the ones he wants.
after using me and allowing me to believe in him
\he asks if he can return me to where I came from

He says that I deserved him
the thing is
he does not really believe that.