juneprune

Is it still America?

The same freedom and liberty our founders fought for,

Now being stripped away by the murderers of our government.

Our constitution, now no more than ink and excuses;

Oh, but they’ll laugh at my blissfulness,

As if it’d affect them more than an ant would a herd.

Oh, to feel felonious for such innocence,

Caused by others—wasting their arrow on a valiant bird.

I only knew her for a couple months. But the way she spoke to me, the way we talked on the phone, it wasn’t hard to grow attached.