May as Well be Auri
moonchild
I'll post more of my things later, but for now, have this.
America the Free*
Empty husks march to school
to be scrubbed
inside out
of identity and authenticity,
replaced with the notion that only those above us
are fit to shape our own lives, hearts, and minds.
Love, empathy, and compassion
are replaced by the burning hatred and cold fear
of harmless attributes, which fail to affect us
except that their acceptance
tears down a hierarchy we are trained to ignore,
and levels a playing field we are taught cannot be.
What is an American?
He has a body that fits,
Enough money,
A mind in “working” order,
White skin,
and an obedient hatred to match.
Broken bodies litter the ground
This one lashed to death,
that one crushed from the weight
Of a country someone else was paid for him to build.
Another torn from an unwanted man,
Another beaten for an identity they were foolish enough to keep.
We build our schools, malls, government on their graves
And claim responsibility for their successes
Because we are the masters
That drove these slaves to death
So that we could benefit from the well of humanity
That we failed to grasp.
What is an American?
He holds his silence, and takes his lessons
Conforms because it is the only fantasy he will ever know
Because his silence raises him to power
Because the praise of well-dressed pigs
Is more important
Than his own beating heart.
America the Free*
Empty husks march to school
to be scrubbed
inside out
of identity and authenticity,
replaced with the notion that only those above us
are fit to shape our own lives, hearts, and minds.
Love, empathy, and compassion
are replaced by the burning hatred and cold fear
of harmless attributes, which fail to affect us
except that their acceptance
tears down a hierarchy we are trained to ignore,
and levels a playing field we are taught cannot be.
What is an American?
He has a body that fits,
Enough money,
A mind in “working” order,
White skin,
and an obedient hatred to match.
Broken bodies litter the ground
This one lashed to death,
that one crushed from the weight
Of a country someone else was paid for him to build.
Another torn from an unwanted man,
Another beaten for an identity they were foolish enough to keep.
We build our schools, malls, government on their graves
And claim responsibility for their successes
Because we are the masters
That drove these slaves to death
So that we could benefit from the well of humanity
That we failed to grasp.
What is an American?
He holds his silence, and takes his lessons
Conforms because it is the only fantasy he will ever know
Because his silence raises him to power
Because the praise of well-dressed pigs
Is more important
Than his own beating heart.
