Central American

From recent history to present day.
We have not wanted them to stay.
The Central Americans of “our backyard”.
We have sentenced the life of the outdoor cat.
With fights and flight.
And almost no rights.
With shelter far away
They have three options, all of them bad
Fight, Flight, or Die, There is no right option, all of them, sad
The journey is tough
Everything is rough
And there is no right answer
Bus or Train?
Each option could be to blame
For you going home, or up and away
Few will make it it, to the border
But if you do, you’ll just be given the cold shoulder
As the U.S. turns you away
“A place for all people, with freedom and justice” they say
“THEN LET US STAY!”
“Please let me come, with the friends I made on the way”
You save up the money, you pay
And now all you can do is pray
Somehow you have made it across
Yet the U.S. catches you and you lost, and with one toss, they launch you back to where you came from.
Your family is dead
The floors are stained red
And the walls reek of decay
They gave up their lives
So that you could thrive
But we threw your attempt away