‘Our Criminal Lives’ by Maja Stachurska, age 15, Year 10, Thomas Clarkson Academy

Do memories always hold the truth?

Can identity only be claimed from youth?

Do privileged strangers know me better than I know myself?

Why is my worth only measured by their wealth?

They scan my papers all day long

In search of anything to prove me wrong

They care no more for my hopes and dreams

For I am no more than a statistic for their computer screens

We have no name, no face, no age

For we are criminals and this is our cage

Our immigration a hideous crime like no other

But don’t you get paid to look out for one another?

Please look at our faces and not just our papers

We’re much more than numbers and unfriendly strangers

We’ll bury our accents, we promise it’s true

We only live to be accepted by you

But our lives go on and so does their ignorance

We’ve tried our hardest to live, but there’s still no worth in our existence

We’re give no money, no help, no compassion

Their care is only provided in small dirty rations

So why do I cling to this hostile land?

Why do I cry out with pleading hands?

Begging to stay here, am I running out of time?

Because I know where my home is, and I will fight for what is mine!