My country

My country,

a place of unrealized potential.

A place where mediocrity is celebrated,

where success is under cut and not rated.

You go one step forward and get dragged back to the putrid stench of ground zero.

The people cry out for a hero,

but the echoes of silence reverberates

and it is almost as deafening as the loud wail of a siren.

The decay of what could have been fills the air...

what do they care?

We are ruled by dirty Harrys and corrupt Sallys.

Every four years or so they blare the trumpets of falsehoods,

announcing their plans as modern day Robin Hoods.

We will take from the rich and give to the poor, they lie.

While the porky pigs devour, the citizens die.

The brave human righters march to right this injustice...

the protest is peaceful, a protest for justice,

but the protest is a threat to the power of our so called rulers.

Conspiracy abound,

Bodies are never found.

The society is no better.

Ageist notions and sexism is its bread and butter.

Religion is justification for not pushing ahead.

Words are taken at face value, and the sheep do not think with their heads.

The misguided youths that live the life of the one percent

protest out loud, giving their entitled two cents 

“Stop portraying the country like so.”

The picture they paint is not the country I know.

My country.

A place where dreams go to die,

but a place I stay on and fight

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This poem is about: 
My community
My country


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