Bliss and Blisters

America: Land of the Free, Home of the Brave…

At least, that’s the lie we tell ourselves,

One so fragile a single man kneeling to the ground threatens to shatter it.

It’s all a facade, hiding the injustice,

Of course, it’s easier just to forget about it.

They say ignorance is bliss, but one’s bliss is another’s blisters.

 

In this nation, we are ruled not by democracy but by patriarchy,

One that cares more about what is covering her skin than what is beneath it.

The media exploits her body, while others seek to control it,

It’s as if this is what she is destined for from birth.

How do you tell a little girl that little is all she’ll ever be,

That she’ll never be worth as much as the child she may or not one day carry?

 

In this nation, the color of one’s skin can be a death sentence,

To even suggest that your life matters is controversial.

A system that seeks to demonize,

Impoverished streets that lead straight to overcrowded cells

And those who are supposed to protect and serve abuse their power,

Preferring to shoot first and ask questions later.

 

In this nation, the privileged sit in their bubbles while many hide in their closets,

They cry “religious freedom” while others cry tears of pain.

And while they wage wars on bathrooms and lead crusades for conversion,

The very children they claim to protect are suffocating on their hate.

When will love just be love,

When will being yourself not mean being damned for it?

 

In this nation, what makes you different makes you lesser.

Many would like to paint a picture perfect utopia,

To turn a blind eye, sweep the imperfections under the rug.

The struggle for rights against those who are afraid of what they don’t understand,

That is the country’s truth.

America: Land of the Oppressed, Home of the Cowards.

This poem is about: 
My country

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