You asked me about my country.
If I kept count
You'd be
Five thousand seventy-fourth
But I still don't know the answer.
I keep looking at the door
Hoping for someone to come in
And end this stupid conversation
But the truth is
I thought I was one of us
Then I was trying to become one of you
And now, nine hundred words more fluent
I have no idea who I am
Or what I am doing here.
Do not interrogate me - I gave up
A long, long time ago
When I realized that I don't belong
I did before, but I never will
Sometimes I am proud
But always lonely,
And sarcastic
And bitter
This is my price to pay for being different
But you don't know it.
That's why I smile and say,
"I like it here"
And you compliment me
On my sense of humor.
I know I'll go back
And wipe out everything that reminds me of this moment
And the first thing I'll erase
Will be
This memory of you
Asking me about my country.