Cry For Your Children Oh America!

In the early morning mist before the sunlight breaks the dark of night, broken bodies file down dusty rows, their calloused hands will harvest the earth’s life giving gifts.

At the counter of a store, a tired man with a face worn older than its days pulls a few coins from his pockets for some milk and bread; his children eat another day.

In a humble home, laughing children’s voices greet a woman’s joyful smile and gleaming eyes of hope that conceal her hearts despair caused by a life too hard.

What will tomorrow bring?

The politicians call them criminals, this Maria and Jose. Invaders who import poverty and disease; who do they think they are; just look at them dressing and talking the way they do. They don’t assimilate; let’s send them all to hell; and, their children too, this Guadalupe and Jesus; parasitic anchors not worthy to be citizens.

Look away, their accomplishments mean nothing, not even besting MIT, nor awards from NASA will prevent their deportation and expatriation; those lazy brown bastards they want it all for free.

What will tomorrow bring?

Cry, oh cry America!

Cry for your children who have long endured the tyrant’s hate!

What will tomorrow bring?