Fri, 07/01/2016 - 14:23 -- lilyia

Every four years, 

We see something so rough that it brings some to tears.

It's not a disaster;

People come together to pick our political master.

First there was twenty, now there are two.

This time, will you go red, or blue?

No matter which one you pick,

People won't hesistate to call you as dumb as a stick.

To the average joe,

If you have opposite views, all they can say is "woah!"

They may get angry,

They may stare at you blankly.

To them, you are no longer the same.

You are now the target of many names.

"Dumb," "Idiot," and "Uninformed"

There's no way for you to become reformed.

You're like a monster.

More grouchy than Oscar.

I don't know about other people my age,

I can't wait for the election to end and for there to be no rage.


This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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