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America
You could be worse off than lands of the free,
We make ourselves stars, inflict our own stripes.
Be good, be true, they say to smaller me,
Forget your past home, and ancestors strife.
Watch brothers and sisters, fall in the streets.
Hear cries of wounded, by officers guns
Taste blood of the hopeless, awful to eat
Feel sad for all that your country’s become.
We learn much at school one month every year.
Pretend we're so cultured, that we've moved on.
“Racism is bad but there is none here”
Pretend we're so great, bad feelings are gone.
America, though there is much to mend,
I’ll stay here, put you together again.
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It was an assignment in my English class to write a sonnet. Sonnets are generally about strong, usually positive feelings. They often roast what they have strong feelings for and end up complimenting these same things.
Being a person of color has given me mixed, unique, and undoubtedly strong feelings about the country I live in. I captured these feelings in this poem and I encourage everyone reading this to reflect on where they live, where they're from, and how they can make either of these locations better places to live.