The immigrant

1. Am I good enough

I can’t look into her eyes for shame

Although she cannot see my pain

My beautiful wife sitting there

Can’t help herself, she can only stare

Playing with our sons car in her hand

He used to play with it, in the sand

She used to laugh, I remember how

That has all changed, this is now!

“Dear I am in pain, behind my eyes”

I bow to look, I don’t know why?

“When can I see a doctor?” she pleads

“When we get some papers” I conceed

As I look out the curtain and ask myself why

Unresponsive as I stare at the sky

Sometimes I am glad that she cannot see

But what does that say about selfish old me

What would be her reaction? Would she still love?

Her pathetic husband, am I good enough?

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