Humanity Washed Ashore... "The Paranoid Immigrant"

Greener Pastures and silver linings,
Fade in a whiff of jaundiced smoke.
And out rise the green eyed monsters,
In chained smiles and sarcastic brows.
That curve and lift in foreign ways,
I understand not.

It is a place that adapts me,
But forbids me to adopt to itself.
A thriving Museum of ship wrecked Sindbads,
Shore on these lost Legacies.
Showcasing a polished exterior rotting Inwardly,
And flags plentiful to feed the official documents.

These nascent feelings yield nothing but ancestral emotions,
and Unknowingly I acquire the wisdom of Grandmas and grand aunts.
Which under any other circumstances, I would have shunned,
As mediocre and orthodox.

Behind the veil of race and color,
There exist Old-age trials of humanity.
Unnoticed-neither spoken nor fought in courts,
But merely suffered in the long hours of every day.
I am no Lazarus, Just a prisoner on a map,
Identified by my Sin# and geography.

No stars, constellate to form my story,
As i pendulum between the Orient and the Occident.
Right or wrong goes a lap, Halal or Haram? Another day is past.
Pendulum, Tick Tock, Tick Tock-East and West,
Tick Tock there is a bomb in my head.
Tick Tock, Tick Tock the polarity swings off course
Paling the pastures and waning the clouds.
~Ash.