Nichole

With a "c" in the middle

Not common, but precious

Cause' difference was 

Not my election.

Came back from Venezuela

Breathing wasn't aloud

So my mom brought me here

With all the pain on our hearts.

Communism is not life

My scream was Art.

dealing with the english

Is Not my best talent

At this time.

Mom talking to me

Praying one hour at night.

Without money for a home

But still together

And alive.

Roots are my  tresure

Don't forget your past.

The child that was I

Will be proud

Of who I am.