Eye of the Beholder

This country has its history

One that is forever stitched into the flag

That flies high, swaying to each breeze that passes by

But can it ever be great to those who live every day

With those skeletons pushed away in the closet

Its very existence ignored by those

Who can`t seem to face the reality

That this country has never been that great

Just like a story there are many sides

A flag meant to represent valor, justice, and innocence

the colors meaning has changed

White is a level of purity and innocence

That has never really been attainable

To those who witnessed the soil turn red

the blood that has paved these streets

Since the crossing of the ocean blue.

To describe the working men and women

Who, no matter how hard they work

Can`t seem to reach that upper level.

And just like beauty, greatness is in the eye of the beholder 

This poem is about: 
My community
My country

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