DearLives

I don't know what we do. We've got a reputation for insignificance and for following.

Occasionally we win the Nobel Prize. We are cold and we go half-way with spelling.

We are not rich and we are not poor. I've got very limited knowledge of us. When I said

I was from here I meant that I was not from anywhere else. We are in no mood for metaphor

But conjure up supposedly delightful simile. We are not a big deal. We are not the next

America land of the free, land of military conflict to make up for wars never lost, liberty

Being the keyword that means as close to nothing as a non-synonym can, Good as an adverb.

Or the next China, which is meant to be the next America, but isn't up for things like democracy

Which don't seem to be the height of our potential but are the best of what we have

Or even the next Switzerland, dear place of peace and voting on issues that need no voting

And Nazi bank accounts and four or five languages. I don't know much.

We will not be much of anything because we are barren land beween America and America,

And Britain whose official system we are more loyal to than they (not against them).

I have never lived among us except once for a short while and by technicality.

I am not here to file a complaint against others. I am not so loyal as that. We are known

By those geographically beneath us for hilarious entities but not for literature.

I am not here to file a complaint. I am not here to state facts either.

As I said before, I do not know tremendous quantities about us. We are a dilemma to me.

But to the extent of my knowledge, you do not have to necessarily pick a side.

I fall a little on the A side of B, if you know how the rites and the colours go.

This poem is about: 
My country

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