A land of Republic, Democratic, and Independent lies here
A menagerie it is found for all to see
Thoughts less solid than brick or clay
Lived upon and subject to one’s own ways
It turns on ones being like a moth to a flame
Singed in pain but covered with fame
Truth corroded yet still there despite the indicative reign
To ashes and death we may come
But the staples of absolute truth might save us from this broken kingdom
YOU ARE READING
America
PoetryThis is my first time writing something like this, please tell me what you think, and give criticism.
