Accented

Did you check out the harsh flaws in my accent,

And bring yourself to touch my different skin?
Were you dying to tell me whether it was meant?
That I should stand out here, or blend in.

Did you want to twist my tongue off at its root?

Because it spoke a different vowel sound
And turn down my voice.  Completely mute
The volume of dreams, both frivolous and profound.

Did you long to rip up my words? Break the spine
That held them together at the page’s edge
Erase everything that had come to be called mine
Simply because I spoke a different language?

The planet is my country: I shall not want

For voices and tongues. Or dreams that haunt.