I hear America shouting
the misconceptions of many a broken thought;
such of the small girl gazing upon her size zero mold

and the young boy dreaming of riches exceeding even the chaotic curls atop his head.
I hear America screaming lost fallacies of a flourishing impression,
as the politician victimizes a wholesome covenant-screaming what belongs to him, though it will never be again.
And the soldier, as he hoists his gun, screaming destruction, to protect nothing more than a great pile of ashes
I hear America laughing in the face of a dying reality,
as the adolescent takes her medication for the last time while her father lies sick, his own body forging the fatal attack.
I hear America whispering the hope of nations,
whispering in the ears of children rummaging through dirt coated streets, bare feet padding down the carpet of the earth,
whispering through the mind of the troubled, as tears of the lonesome turn to tears of the joyful, who gather together-
whispering the words of a sweet song, rising steadily to be heard-growing louder and louder
with each passing minute.