'Merica

'Merica

Is the old man who stopped and turned

To snarl at my mothers beige skin

In the dairy aisle without shame

It is the voice in my head saying 

I'll never be able to hold my girlfriends hand 

Beacause I am not a man 

It is all the black boys who were killed

For wearing hoodies and their own skin

When they 'should have know better'

It is the man screaming about 'mens rights'

Hiding behind his straight white skin 

Unafraid to walk home alone

 

But America

Is the teenagers gathered in the streets 

Armed with signs in place of weapons 

Unafraid to make themselves heard 

It is the exhausted single mom  

Working three minimum wage jobs 

Just so her kids can afford to eat 

It is people of all backgrounds

Fighting back against 

Everyone who says they can't 

 

'Merica may hurt us

But it can't stop us

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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