1-3. I’m determined to watch steps and tongueso they won’t land me in trouble.I decided to hold my tongueas long as Wicked is in the room.“Mum’s the word,” I said, and kept quiet.But the longer I kept silenceThe worse it got—my insides got hotter and hotter.My thoughts boiled over;I spilled my guts.
12-13. “Ah, God, listen to my prayer, mycry—open your ears.Don’t be callous;just look at these tears of mine.I’m a stranger here. I don’t know my way—a migrant like my whole family.Give me a break, cut me some slackbefore it’s too late and I’m out of here.”