Rat kids


Tonight, my favorite song is ‘Dont stop believing’ by Journey. In the guitar strings is our experience in this dark of the night. Rainy metro city
concrete floors, concrete walls. Dark nights, cloudy days, spans of loneliness that lasts months on end. You’ve become an American boy, more than I’ve ever become an American girl.
As immigrants, we feel like the dwelling rats that run here and there, between buildings, trying to live
surviving.

Your brunet hair and your pale skin, but your name… you’ve swiveled into this system like a lover who’s climbed into his beloved’s bedroom up high. While I stand out here, hanging onto the railing of a fast running subway.

Maybe it’s been a rough ride for you too at one point, but you’re the king of the coup right now. You’ve got cars, wealth, and chicks line up by your door. Like most immigrants here, we got backup assets, and the attitude, the struggle, the undying restlessness
to steer us upwards. Like you, I’ve become successful in my own light. I’m the queen in demise.

We’re stuck here; somewhat. Not just in our successes;
but in this place.
We’re like concrete flowers. Maybe you don’t see it that way, but I do.
Because you can try to immerse with your pale skin
but your name will always be different and I
I got both things against me.
Can’t relate to you but I can.
Can’t find a home; in you I see it somewhat.
Take this little bit of hope I hold, and smear it
through the walls of this city.
Can you do that? I’m so tirelessly alone in this downfall, but here I am traveling the world
and in every place I go, I tell them where I’m from and what I’m representing
this rat world that I hated
that’s become our stance to the rest
we conquered this dump and raised a flag over it
we own it, my love, me and you
rat king and rat queen
I only love this place because of your existence
I only feel proud of this place because of our rough time in it
concrete walls, undercovers in the dark of the night
an electric city underneath the clouds
your colorful trace
your intoxicating scent
your window reflections in all of it.

Published by Samasya Tapasya

Samasya? Tapasya!

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