Divided We Fall

This country is a mess.

Promises of freedom for the few by

oppression of the many

taking hold of us,

with anger and a sense of injustice

overwhelming our senses because we know it isn’t fair.

 

 

Protesting protests

of everyone’s right to live and be happy

because someone higher up says

some people don’t deserve that.

Stomping on the liberty of people they don’t like

for what? A sense of self satisfaction?

 

If you’re not a man,

you’re only good for sex.

If you’re not white,

you’re a criminal.

If you’re not Christian,

well, they’ll see you in Hell.

We’re told over and over that only certain kinds of people deserve this life.

 

And we sit here,

listening to the lies of the media

that tell us it’s all okay.

When a man promises

to make this country great again

by doing to others what Hitler did to my people,

I can’t take it.

 

I don’t know what to do

or how to help,

and this feeling of unease

of what our future might become

is driving me crazy.

Our country is a mess,

maybe too much to clean up.

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world

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