My Country Tis Not of Thee

These words that were written so long ago

They cease to shine. They cease to grow.

They mock me now, day in and day out. 

For tis nothing but a puppet show,

 

I wonder why we ignore the past

We turn on our brothers, faster than fast.

And only when there's no more blood to shed.

Will we as a people come together at last.

 

Great is word tossed 'round like a ball.

How are we the best but not great at all?

Democracy runs like a well oiled machine.

But now as one voice rises, the rest of us fall.

 

The words black and white are nothing but colors.

So why do we let them divide us as brothers?

Are you not the same as me and I, you?

Or must you look down your noses at others?

 

A man with a dream for the unity of races

Is crying in Heaven at the sights of our faces.

A man with no plan is running our nation,

And leading America to the darkest of places.

 

A country whose name is the best to date

Is wasting away on the premise of hate.

My country tis not of thee pas du tout

It can't understand the meaning of great.

 

This poem is about: 
My country

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