I am from the old man that farms for a living and the tears that are shed to keep the motivation living.
I am from the weeds that are picked and the soil that is dug,
To the sun burns and dark colored skin that is given from the one up above.
I am from the woman who is told how to dress and the distress of when we’ll eat next.
I am from the womb of a woman who is stronger than mankind and the man who is weaker than his
I am from the ones who have lost everything but still managed to give me everything.
I am from the man that has had nothing but has provided me with anything.
To the trials and tribulations to the days of reliving pain.
I am from the eyes of success to the troubled paths of ungratefulness.
I am from the men and women that put no stress on my progress,
To the sweat and stress my old man gets.
I am the blessing of people who never thought they would be alive.
I am the heart of souls who didn’t make it out alive.
I am the one with a dream and with words that stay unspoken with my head up high I remain unbroken.
By Ivet Robles