A poem about being a second class citizen
Recount us the amount of times she you or he // will ever be ridiculously considered // as a 2nd class citizen. // Innumerable if you ask me but that’s coming straight from the mouth of the horse // A pureblood due east of the Atlantic Sea // The ONLY difference between an Indian/African/ect American and an American Indian/African/ect seems to be the syntax that drags barriers in front of thee
Relive us the pain, the acceptance, and the recovery of changing every pronoun from her to him because she says // “It’s not that I’m living a life of my own, I’m just surviving the one you // America // Condone” // The “brave” still fear what they don’t know // So naturalized might as well follow the same conotation as an Asian American’s test scores — Fully achieved, Foolishly perceived. And you know it’s fucked up when you start believing that primary colors take on political meaning // because before // the only Blue thing that mattered was the sky and Red was the closest color to bubblegum and hell // Ignorance is bliss
Reaccept us America // All for one // Reawaken the beauty that lies dormant in the words “All men are created equal”
Five score years // later // let us have become Great Americans
One for all and all for one, how bout’ it America?
***Disclaimer: This poem was written back in highschool, circa 2015, circa not my president Donald cheeto p****grabbing wall-building Trump***
Hey, thanks for reading this far!
I’d love to hear your thoughts, comments, ect. Good, bad, ugly, or uglier.
If you were to share any of my stories on Social Media, I would also be thrilled to pieces.
xo_RO
