Burning Horizons

When I look out

to where we'll be

is it just clouds

or is it smoke I see

 

I guess they expect us

to keep it going

they tell me I matter

but they don't even know me

 

if we only grow cotton

what will we eat then

starve to death

or burn off our money

 

stop talking so much

let me tell my own story

they say that I'm perfect

but how could they know me?

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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