life · poetry · Uncategorized

America Wears a Mask.

America wears a mask.

The mask of generosity.

The mask of giving choice.

The mask of acceptance.

And the mask of hearing your voice.

They say they listen.

They say they understand.

They say, “stand up and speak.”

Yet they muffle your voice with their hand.

America the great.

America the brave.

But how many people do we kill,

And how many do we save?

I recently went over a history essay that I wrote in the 10th grade,

And tears streamed down my face as I read:

About Vietnam, about our history, about the murder, about the gruesome  war,

And my tender heart just tore.

I remember the day I wrote it,

Because my tears had stained the pages of a textbook.

I cried about how terrible it must have been back then,

Until I remembered that it’s still happening today, what happened to them.

People are being shot at in the streets,

And the sidewalks are covered in a color darker than beets.

I write this poem from the comfort of my bed,

But I know that out there is a child in some shelter,

Trying to decide whether the blanket should cover their toes or their head.

America the great.

America the brave.

Yet we cowardly send off people to die,

Very well knowing their fate.

Perhaps it was better long ago,

Because heaven only knows how much has changed: the people, the places, the things.

Cause now our lives are just clothes hanging on a string.

The rich go to cocktail parties, using words like “homeless” and “slut” for the punchline of a joke,

While on the opposite corner, stand people begging for food and selling themselves because they’re broke.

America wears a mask.

Our greed is disguised by fame and success.

Our true state of living is disguised by reality T.V.,

And our societal limitations hide behind phrases such as, “land of the free.”

America the great.

America the brave.

Yet while drilling for more oil, we are digging our own grave.

Revolutionarily yours,



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