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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Contest · #1532232
They warp their own reflections. Wanting their solid one color perfection. Splasharama.
Voids of people live in their own imagery place.
Never really seeing the true human face.
Only the many shades of Heaven's grace.
But, their misguided sight grants them only disgrace.

A country divided, yet bound in hatred.
Unity blooms the American patriot.
See the white, red and blue!
Not the rainbow of mankind's hues.
They don't do unto themselves.
as they do unto you.

They cannot see their tainted history.
Only their unfounded distrust and mystery.
That calling once heard in every land.
From a mentor, a leader, a man.
His spoken words "I have a dream"
Has only become their means to scheme.

They warp their own reflections.
Wanting their solid one color perfection.
Never knowing they need to go in a new direction.
To end their tangled, self mutilated elections.

A country, trapped in its own self destuctive path.
Need to sit amongst each other and do the math.
To finally learn from all those racist mistakes.
For in the end, we all reside
in the same heavenly lake.

Not because of the color of our mother.
But from the image of our heavenly father.
A country no longer living in silence.
Only by a rainbow of faces.
Their colorful balance.

Written for Splasharama, Kanaspoet! Contest. "Phew"

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