celia hinojosa (8/24/97 / california)
I deal drugs. I'm less than you. I'm illegal. I'm not allowed to live in a nice home. I shouldn't be in the United States. There is a border holding my people back. Water dripping off our backs, soaking wet, Dieing of thirst, Dieing of hunger. I'm a color that is neither white or black. I am tan. I am Mexican. I'm human. My colors are green, white, and red. I've searched and dreamed for freedom. Freedom for my sisters, my brothers, my aunts, and my uncles. But no! There is no justice in the land of the free. The land of god. Because when I got there I was considered a alien. A drug dealer. Illegal. But I'm human just like you.
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