My grandma told me that she was not allowed to be herself. 
She told me about the past, a foreign country - they did things differently over there.
She would look into the mirror, destroyed.
Tiny pieces of herself reflected. 
She couldn’t recognize her own image. lost.
She told me a big word that should mean something. 
DITADURA
I shivered at its sound. I felt the ghostly hands that force-fed assimilation and unfamiliarity into my tongue as I repeated it.  ...

Arising from above
The claims already decided
The North arrives with esteem
Searching for the possessions already possessed.
With an superior look 
And distinguished faces, they stare 
to the south, the backyard, the best source of capital
The south of the tropical.
And with airs of imperialism
They rip our humanisms
Cracking the harnesses 
And the lashes begin 
From the martyr making machine
Because we are all 
Mere colonized who sing
Hymns that overflow untied knots
We are the place where...