Poem: The Island Of The Free

By Ashley Paramo

The first time I went to America

I had high hopes for what I would see.

And even though I enjoyed myself

I did not enjoy how Americans treated me.

“It’s because you look Puerto Rican”

My aunt said to me.

But Puerto Rico is a part of America!

How can Americans discriminate against me?

I like it more in my little island.

My cozy house by the sea.

In Puerto Rico you are not judged or hated against.

Puerto Rico is the place to be.

In America there is only you, him, her and I.

There is no such thing as “we”.

If you fall then you better get up.

For the Americans will step all over thee.

My little island isn’t perfect.

But then again, show me a place that can be.

With shootings, murders and gangs.

Not everything in my island is a warm cup of tea.

But I love my island so, and my island loves me.

So keep your America and its discrimination.

While I enjoy my humble island.

The island of the free.

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