Distorted truth

Look how beautiful she is.

Look at her dress, how it shines in the light.

Look at her nails, painted just right.

Look at her hair full of diamonds and gold.

Look how she stands elegant, bold.

 

 

Oh, her makeup is simply perfection.

Every word spoken causes reflection.

If they insult her, she doesn't care.

She turns and mocks them hoping they'll stare.

 

The air of a queen is what she has round her.

No one would guess the secrets that bound her.

Like the man whom so much money she owes,

Her debt only exponentially grows.

 

Or the streaks of colour on her skin.

The ones she despises and calls sins.

Or perhaps the many souls she's forgotten

Her love a thing that can only be boughten.

 

Or the truth that all of her answers are never candid,

And every compliment given is somewhat backhanded.

Or the fact she simply cannot agree with you, me or even herself.

So instead the issues get hidden and stranded stuck up high on the shelf.

 

Or how she boasts of her highly stocked armory

Saying "No one is as safe and secure as me"

Yet all around her ignorance runs rampant,

Her people left only with verbs like can't.
 

She ignores the beggar who stands starving alone.
She bypasses the dog who’s stripped down to the bone.
She races passed the warnings inhaling her smoke.
Then begs for help from her friends when she starts to choke.
 

She says she loves all but that isn’t true.
She loves the rich and the male and the red white and blue.
Every charitable act is fueled by greed.
But she claims that it is caused only by need.

 

Now she can be charming and she can be kind.
But this often is rare and quite hard to find.
She does offer freedom, she does let you speak.
She does let you worship all days of the week.
 

She is always trying to be the best
Though her resolve is sometimes at rest.
She does give plenty, sometimes too much.
Her hopeful ways are used as a crutch.
 

Though this woman goes by many a name.
There is one she most loves and proudly claims.
America.
They call her the land of the free.
But she is so much more to you and to me.

 

This poem is about: 
My country

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