To me, America was a luxurious woman

who carries a branded bag and wears expensive clothes

To me, America sang a beautiful song about liberty

I left because my country is not safe for someone like me,

I left because the police imprisoned the young people without caring about anything,

I left because my dreams were further from my borders

I imagined the new and expensive cars on the road,

I imagined happy Christmas, where the family dines together in America,

I imagined the children playing in the snow

But in my America, there are days that feel cold, dark, and rainy.

In my America, the fog in the city makes it difficult to see the horizon.

My America is the dirty streets full of failed dreams, where people walk without care.

Now America is like a horror movie where everyone is on their own.

America sings a song of peace that little by little darkens,

Like children singing in a horror movie.