America

America, land of the free.

A land of progress and originality;

A land of justice, faith, and loyalty;

A land of hope, truth, and creativity.

And Yet, it's not all it's cracked up to be.

 

Sure, progress has been made;

It's not denied.

Black freedom, women's suffrage, Indian rights;

The government and The Bill of Rights;

Religious freedom, our independence, a better life.

 

And yet, that's not true - not completely.

There are those without a voice;

Without a say.

We Children are the shadows,

An unseen nation;

Our right to choices has been taken away.

 

We have no say in what to believe,

Who to love.

Our parent choose our schools, our jobs, our life.

We are all trapped in the pretend or a battle.

We decide nearly nothing of our life!

 

How many have died,

Trying to gain a say?

How many spirits have been banquished,

Forced into being a lie?

What is worse than being what you are not?

Is it a wonder so many choose to let it end?

 

We are a nation

That has accomplished so much-

Perhaps even the furthest along.

But we are far from being done.

problems are still here - waiting...

 

Will we ever be one?

 

This poem is about: 
My country
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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