*****

There is no recording of this poem because its truth is so painful that the poet just can’t even bear to recite it out loud this morning.

*****

Good Morning, America

Of all the sounds in our world
Which by us may be heard
First sound I hear every day
~ And the second, and the third

Are sounds of hatred, followed by
Poison gasses ~ I live in
The Land of Feedom, Home of Pain:
I am an American.