Imaginary lines that divide.
Imaginary lines that create borders between countries, counties and people.
You don’t belong here you are not one of us.
I am bone, blood and skin the same as all that belong to those, I mentioned above.
You keep me on the peripheral of your circle of friends.
I don’t fit in because I wasn’t born around the corner or just up the road around the bend.
That imaginary line that you drew with your hand that stops me becoming a part of your clan, crew or country man.
I am bone, blood and skin the same as you.
Yet I don’t belong here because I’m different to you.