Land of the Free
Death, hold me close when all cease to exist,
then upon her sunken face shall I plant a kiss.
Steel stands still where grass used to lay,
all thanks to her plastic surgery; the industrialization age.
Liberty, clothed in cash green, approaches, a tempting mistress.
We are the Dead. In the midst
Of busy schedules, we relent
To reflect on social delay;
Death, hold me close when all cease to exist.
Liberty ruined me yet requires me to repent
Of the unspoken treason, a terroristic threat.
Behind political grins, foil brains concave
In a matter of decision: To what am I a slave?
Change of freedom and the freedom to change.
Death, hold me close when all cease to exist.
👁 7💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.