Page Four

Citizens Who Suffer

America is a crisis center, and the call for help goes unanswered. The authority of the world is the pockets of gold owned by men who treat the gold diggers as the very dirt they walk upon. The systems of money flow like rivers and yet those who live near it are forced to stay away. They tell me that if I walked nearer to the waters all my pains will be relieved. But as I journey, I am forced to give away everything, in the end, I have nothing. I become a slave to society. I walk the fields of plenty, but I reap nothing. There are days where my value is worth more if I was dead, but even dying is expensive.

Those in power say we have the right to change our authority, but it is a façade. We are able to choose the lesser of two evils, but never true good. Our choices are chosen for us, and we hang by threads of hope. Those threads have begun to suffocate us.

If my only freedom is speech, will my religion be taken away? If my only freedom is the right to bear arms, will the guns I purchase to stay safe be ripped away from my hands? If those who come here to seek freedom are shoved back because of paperwork, then why does the paperwork take years to complete? What is our freedoms value?

We may be citizens of a great nation, but we are citizens who suffer.

And our great nation is no more.

We are slaves.

And you are the gold digger of America.

And the results you reap are not your own.

We have fallen.

We are citizens who suffer.

Signed, 

The Poet and the Stranger