American Bass

It all started with the Drums.

That steady beating that created towers and slums.

Steady beating for those wounded and fallen,

Drumming for those who were beaten and forgotten

All were supposed to seen as a patriot,

But now only created a controversial fire that was brightly lit.

From the lands of Seattle to Miami,

There are only acts of those who are ignorant and slimy.

They can't see that our sons are sent across sea to save salvation,

Can't see that our daughters were dragged through dry dirt just for deliverance,

Don't see that foreign eyes look at us with hope and oppurtunity,

Don't see that leaders will try to scale the walls before thinking clearly.

They can't hear the leather bang echo loud and high,

Can't hear the piercing sound of our mother's and father's cry,

Don't hear the sad citizen's symphony,

Can't hear the lullaby of Lady Liberty.

And if they won't see and hear,

The globe will celebrate a dead America with a cold beer.

And once the foretold future of the US has fallen,

Others will stroll among our ashes, as if we were forgotten.

If They won't see, we will end as we started.

With the steady beating of the drums.

This poem is about: 
My country

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