Week of Poetry: Day Four

This land is your land

This land is my land,

But because our world now,

It could soon die, man.
I’m scared of the power,

Up in the white tower,

That’s put a countdown on freedoms,

We’re losing each hour,

They press me hard against the pane,

And outside, billionaires will reign,

Brimstone bricks fall deep, like umber,

Crashing down around the lumber,

Wall after wall will fall between,

We failed to find the common mean,

We drained swamp, raised the stakes,

Filled each hallowed seat with snakes,

We’re flailing on a failing boat,

So tell me,

What difference did it make,

My vote.


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