Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses,
Yearning to breathe free.
I will put these fine folks
In dark morasses,
In captivity.
Here, let me help you.
Your kids need free passes,
Some compassion, see?
A Land of the Free
With victim peddlers
And grievance mongers
Salivating openly.
Oh the woe of it all.
2 comments:
Enjoyed the poems will look again soon for some more.
Thank you Anna. I enjoy writing them.
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