America (Distopia)

Where you shed skin to dream of a land,
Where your skin won’t have to be shed,
If it’s the wrong kind of skin,
Too dark to blend in,
Melting pot full of poison,
Fascist presidents,
Illogical precedents.

The beacon of light,
But the electricity is out,
We hope the future can be lit by,
Our fears and our doubts,
We will build a wall,
To protect us from our fears,
We will build a wall,
Between us and everything we thought we use to hold dear.

Oh America,
Drunk on your repeated history,
It comes in a whiskey bottle,
From the 1860’s,
Once we drink it all again,
We might just run out of history.

Riots on the streets,
Get everything but happiness for cheap,
Don’t think about why any of it is cheap,
Just sit back,
Try not to feel bleak.

I remember this summer,
I went to New York City for the first time,
And I saw every person of every race holding hands,
It was a sign,
Of what we could be,
An illusion of hope,
Now those people are put on a registry.


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