The king of this country sits on his throne held up by his riches.
Looks down to his people- “pull yourself up by your boot straps, put on your big boy britches.”
As if it’s a matter of will or choice that these problems exist,
Blind to the fact theres these systemic barriers that still persist.
Pleas for equality, justice and peace go ignored,
As they continue to strip help from the elderly, disabled and poor.
“You will obey me, as I’m the greatest of the great!”
But the only way he knows how to lead is through hate.
Our people are suffering, not much left in them to fight,
Imagine how loud our voices would be if we were rich men who are white.
Maybe then will our lives finally matter,
Maybe then we would be able to climb this broken dream of a ladder.
A daunting thought and an impossible request,
But hey, that’s what we voted for, that’s Americas best.
-
Author:
kzsparadise (
Offline)
- Published: February 23rd, 2025 15:05
- Comment from author about the poem: The current devastation of America.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Comments3
I echo every sentiment written in this piece, and sadly i think its only going to get worse for everyone except the billionaire's boy's club, enjoyed the read
It does make me wonder that if those are our best its a good thing the worst didn't get elected. A most interesting read.
truly something that cuts deep and hurts when one sits to think about what could have been, and what is
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.