Oh beautiful for spacious lies.

The sun is in the sky but I find myself asking why.

Why is America beautiful?

Why is America great?

Does it need to be great again or was it ever?

We call ourselves the land of the free, the home of the brave

but I see landfills and oil spills digging our grave.

We hide in our corner if we're labeled a foreigner

We shouldn't have to hide in the land of the free.

We shouldn't hide in the land of the brave.

You tell us we're free.

You tell us we're brave.

You tell us these lies.

But I can hear with my eyes.

Tell me why is America great again?

You can't because you didn't hear me. 

I have no voice. I was never given the choice

To ask you the question, in the land of freedom and speech,

Why is America great?

This poem is about: 
Me
My country
Our world

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