Chinese-American

Evan Chen

It was seven years ago,

When I remember I was alienated from my “friends.”

It was in my heart,

that they left a dent.

 

Back then, I was only six.

Living in China, speaking my tongue.

I really loved it there, until everyone knew I was American.

That was the part, that really stung.

 

It was seven years ago,

When it was time to move.

Smelling the candles one more time,

realizing there was nothing to lose.

 

The goal of exploration danced in front of my eyes.

From one side of the Earth to another,

was like flipping a paper up-side-down.

the cruel thing was: I couldn’t have been bothered.

 

With a blink of an eye, I was in America.

Without knowing a word of English,

My bag was an elephant, as it dragged on my shoulder.

making a friend, was all I’ve wished.

 

When I sat down, I was the talk of the town.

I felt special, but also isolated.

They treated me as if I was different,

making me not want to be loved, nor hated.

 

I wondered, what am I?

If I’m not American, nor Chinese.

then what am I?

If I can’t be either one, then why not be both?

 

I let my thought sink in,

as I started to pick up English.

Being a part of both China and America

made me proudly Chinese-American.