It is on my skin that colors come alive & my eyes
threaten to be weary from pursuit of happiness.
My country shifts away from me, in this moment
these fraudsters want to steal a nation. The head
on my neck tires from going to many places, seeking
to learn how society make vagabond. These words
fall from my mouth becoming a river to drown my fears,
becoming fire from the inside of my stomach. This poem
is a letter to generations coming as soldiers that must
stamp madness out from the head of our country.
photo credit: goodtherapy.org
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