Home of the Struggling Cowards

Home of the free?

Rather the home of the bourgeoisie

Trampling upon the average proletariat,

Who can work for hours upon hours on end

Lost in a treasureless sea

 

Where’s that college degree?

It’s held in my left hand because in my right is your smoothie

I listened to your promises with hope and enthusiasm,

And now I struggle with a lowly wage and staggering loans

But that’s not your fault, instead it’s on me

 

Can this land be considered free?

It seems like freedom here is a right you can’t guarantee

Because here it all matters,

If you’re black or white or straight or gay

They’ll listen to your problems and pretend to agree

 

Are we the home of the brave?

Beneath an obnoxious bully with an attention crave

I think we’re a land full of cowards,

Scared of gender and sexuality and race

Digging ourselves deeper and deeper into our grave

This poem is about: 
My country

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