Dear America

Dear America,

Why is it that I’m over $40,000 in debt with student loans and I have yet to make $40,000 a year?

Dear America,

Why is it that my blackness alone is a reason for our police to shoot and kill?

Dear America,

Why is it that my sexuality and my desire to legally be with someone of the same sex voted on by you?

Dear America,

Why is it that I don’t feel your red America?

I don’t feel your passion and your love for me as an American.

I don’t feel your white!

I don’t feel your goodness, and I don’t feel safe as an American.

But I do feel your blue.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world

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