Like Switzerland, she remains in the middle
Like Switzerland, she is torn between her two worlds
Like Switzerland, there are no sides to take
She fits not in either world, for nothing feels right.
She’s without a country to call her own
The longer she remains in one world
The more she forgets the other; not fluent in either tongue
Her allegiance to both worlds equals
But she truly belongs to only one; which one?
Her birth country is but a memory,
Her adoptive country is but a burden, full of hate and fear of the different
She yearns to return to the land of her people, but she has ties that bind
She feels the air of home swirling around her
She hears the sounds of locals as their lives intertwine
She tastes the foods she loved as a young girl
For now she waits, for a ripe time to return home, for without her mother
And father among the living, she feels not a connection to her homeland
She desperately wants to turn back time, but she can’t
She lives with the excruciating pain of death’s stolen love.
And so like Switzerland, she remains in the middle.
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