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Another poem I wrote when I was 15, for school.

At home I was trapped
no where to run
no where to hide
from thesorrows and pain of poverty
I begged, borrowed, and stole
just to get here with
the hope of being free
but that hope was
crushed so fast that
I lost my breath
I was so close to
freedom that I could
almost taste it
here in this dark dank
cell I wait to die
I wait to be sent back to
the hell I came from
I wait to go to the land
that I so desparately want
to call my home
I hear only the cries, sighs of
people starving from hunger
and thirst
the air is stale from
lack of ventilation that
we all desparately want, need
while waiting our
destinies to be decided