My America

My America is an apple,
Pie in the sky,
A dream so high,
You gotta learn how to fly,
By jumping out of your mother’s nest.
Whether your wings are fully developed or not.

I’m a combination of:
Lace-curtain potato famine,
Olive-skinned papists,
Benefiting from slave owning racists,
Descendants of Spanish-Iberian,
A mix of Muslim-Jew-and-Christian

I want my country tis of thee,
To become a soliloquy,
Sung in any language,
Or any key.

Because my America was born with,
A cancerous tumor called white supremacy
But you can make damn sure I will not let become a legacy
I want to curb stomp the notion of national socialism,
And tear down any wall,
Instead of putting one up.

You might see,
A race baiter,
Or a race traitor,
But I’m just using the force like I’m
Darth Vader.

Betraying the dark side like,
I’m the chosen one,
But really I’m just a kid from the subburbs
With a silly man-bun

In my America,
I like to fashion myself a pacifist,
But not one to back down from a fight.
I believe strongly in community,
But sometimes I like to fly solo,
Like Han,
Or Luke.
Depends on my mood and level of persistence
But just so that we are all on the same page, 
In my America,
I’m one with the Force,
And down the Resistance