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A land of freedom
“This is a land of freedom”
we say,
“Look at us!”
I look.
And I see many things
I see the movement
of the century.
I see golden progress,
wealth, shining glamour,
I see a mirage.
I see the broken bodies of
people in our gutters.
I see thousands, slaughtered,
to hide
our corruption.
Tell me about Cambodia.
The middle East.
The natives who walked along rivers
long before I
walked our streets.
I see our rot for what it truly is.
We hold these truths
to be Self evident, that
All
men are created equal.
Then why do we
march in robes of white,
shouting hatred?
Why does the patriarchy
take basic human rights?
Other nations are ashamed,
but we are proud of our bigotry.
I see our twisted shame.
Eight million slaves
have fallen
for this land of freedom.
Countless millions
of native Americans,
driven to and fro with
the winds of white men’s fancy.
Black bodies
and white bodies
bleed the same blood.
I see it seep into the ground
we prize as free.
I see much.
I know little.
But my eyes do not
lie to my mind.
I am disgusted by this
land, a land built in rot
and death.
Why do we lord over the rest
of the world,
when we are so far beneath them?
I do not know that,
but I know there is no freedom here.
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Not a traditional sonnet, but definatly a sarcastic one!