Burning Horizons
When I look out
to where we'll be
is it just clouds
or is it smoke I see
I guess they expect us
to keep it going
they tell me I matter
but they don't even know me
if we only grow cotton
what will we eat then
starve to death
or burn off our money
stop talking so much
let me tell my own story
they say that I'm perfect
but how could they know me?
This poem is about:
Me