Poem

Rest. in. Pieces, The Union 

Oh America, my America!

Of course mine is not yours;

But we have the right to pursue our own happiness;

At least I thought it was what the experiment was for.

Humans are imperfect; in every country, every state-

Though in every aeon lie some nations;

That give humans power to trump their own hate.

The sin of the world is the sin of time’s passing;

And in time both evil and goodness reign-

This is a fact not worth denying;

Whether your belief in the soul or the brain.

Humans have a spark of light;

For I do not care what you say-

And let me tell I am well versed not only in the past;

But in the science of today.

People are not gender;

Colors, body parts, lifeless stone;

We we are here to see we are light of the rainbow;

That gives us hope when we are alone.

Elliot said empires fall,

A wasteland is where we live;

Though others chose to give it all,

Just like Jesus did.

But one is not better than the other;

There is no opposite

We are reflections of each other

And light up the lifeless stone in which we live.

I live in America.

Though I’m not sure how much longer-

I’ve read the words of Douglas and Twain

But the twain that ties us is growing weaker.

I never did consider myself a part of a specific race;

A time, tribe, or nation;

But America was my resting place-

And I fear it will not be great again.

I was in love with a woman,

Once, twice, or maybe not-

I was told I was brilliant,

And then that an illness was my fault;

I sang songs with friends in my younger years,

Thinking it would be great one day;

To truly live in this nation, even if I was gay.

Dr. King judged us on our character;

Gandhi did as well

Wherever there is a noble spirit,

They do this as well.

When you look up at the stars-

Know you are small.

But when you look inside yourself;

Know you are bigger than them all.

This life is but a dream;

A mosaic of mind-

But in America the dream-

Seemed to be mine.

I have woken up, and though it is sad;

Things must close, the good and the bad;

The sun shines and rains on the just and unjust;

But just this once, let me say I believed the sun shone on U.S.

As it seems not one from Gettysburg is coming down;

And the fathers upon fathers nowhere to be found;

The women upon women who gave their lives unknown,

It is time to say, I have no home.

It is time to say, this is not my home,

It is time to say, my america, rest;

It is you I have outgrown.

And I am not alone.

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