I’m just a number,a figure, an image,
I’m rare but to you I’m not important, no one really cares.
If I am left alive, I won’t be just a mirage
because they will go on hunting others, leaving scars.
No one cares who we are and where we came from
no one knows where we had to run away
what’s it like being alone, what society has done,
I hope when this is over someone makes you pay.
So many things are unique to me
so many thoughts and ideas surround me.
Why would you put me as just a number, a face
when I am a person, I run my own race.
Put me in a file from where I can’t run
put a gun next to my head and made me ask myself what have I done
I still won’t change, I’m the same human
I’ll do what I want, whether it’s right or wrong.