F. IGHT F. THIS F. AMERICA

Land of the free,
Home of the brave.
Divided in our endeavors,
United in one thing—
The insatiable urge to be right.

One flag, many fights,
Destruction, division, and no clear destination.

Hands on our hearts,
Issues on our minds,
Fingers in fists, arms no longer intertwined.
No intersection of ideas, no similar state of mind—
We live in a warzone, constantly dodging hurtful comments like mines.

A divided house cannot stand;
A divided nation with connected land,

It has become impossible for us to band
together, to listen, to hear, to simply understand.

To lace up our boots and strap on our gloves,
To take command of our corner,
To demand change.
To fight for our rights,
To radiate warmth and light,
To set our sights
on community, cohesion, and being precise,
in our efforts to repair the damage from the fight
between both sides of a broken America—shattered by spite.

Filled with despair, yet deaf to the crying,
Brimming with envy, the dream is dying.
Loaded with rage, and crammed with deceit,
A nation divided forgets how to meet.

Now, truth lies buried beneath the parade,
the remodeling of the White House, and the news channels throwing shade.
Our vision of democracy is beginning to fade,
and justice grows quiet—
Her memory has almost entirely decayed.

We choke on the promise we once called divine;
Our Founding Fathers’ wishes are no longer yours or mine.
We pledge to the symbols but not to the soul,
Trade empathy’s warmth for the myth of control.
Our voices grow louder, but none intertwine—
We are a country of mirrors, mistaking them for shine.