Spurred by hateful hail storms,

By inconsiderate phrases,

By being buried in drafts of snow;

Brought down by a man our country praises.

The chaos he spews

Ignites rebellion within us.

Is a bitter and gelid storm;

Of violently windy gusts.

Sprinkled with hurt,

Mocked by icy disdain,

It is no wonder;

Hundreds look for a plane.

So to desire,

To flee the scene,

Is not unheard of;

Is not unclean.

Thousands here,

We think of as home,

So why are we told;

This is not our land to roam?

Ushered to the golden world,

By ancestors seeking light,

How could they expect;

Such a cold and frigid night?

Taken from our homes,

Sent back to lands unknown,

Told that is where we belong;

Told to silence our wailing song.

A woman of here,

Born and raised as one,

Shot down by an icy man;

Wielding a morbid gun.

To flee is fear,

And fear is valid,

For how to sleep in a country;

Where it’s risky to close both eyelids?

Some to Denmark, some to France;

To give their lives a fighting chance.

Some to the Netherlands some to Spain;

To escape this solemn and frigid reign.

How to leave the U.S.A?

Turn your back, and run away.

For your child, your brother, your spouse

Escape this hell; quiet, as a mouse.