Mother America is Dead

An outcast and the people’s man

Is nothing but a lewd artifice of a leader

His white hot rhetoric sears into America’s already scarred skin

She weeps for her children

The scorching ideology is like contagion and they keep getting sicker

Child America is dying

They clutch their privilege like spoilt children

and screech when Mother America attempts to explain, “Sweetie, you must share”

Mother America is dying

Land of the free

Home of the brave

Lately it seems there is only enough room for pale skinned straight men in this land

But it is still home to their multiplying victims - those are the brave ones.

The dawn’s early light is nothing more than a flag on fire

The masses roil and the crescendo of injustice keeps crashing down

And America, she begs us, please

But his white flesh is too eager to taste the blood of those under him

We will live to see

The twilight’s last gleaming


This poem is about: 
My country


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