I Am Not a Poet

by Destiny Cook
They say that with hard work,
just that.
And dedication.
We can escape this prison,
this trap called desperation.
The one we’re all broke in,
You know, except that one percent.
We can fight until we die but it won’t make a difference.
Uncle Sam pretends he’s on your side but really
he’s hopped the fence.
He holds the key to our cell.
None of this makes any sense.
This land is supposed to be free,
full of hope,
Isn’t that the infamous American dream?
But all I see is determined people being stripped of dignity.
Hard work is fine,
but if it only makes us a meager dime I’d say we’re wasting our precious time.
This nine to five makes it so we’re barely alive,
barely scraping by.
It’s disgusting how most of us can’t even eat but we have people out there sleeping on three thousand thread sheets.
Most of us don’t need lavish things to make us feel complete.
We just want to eat,
to live in peace,
to stop getting shot by police.
What do we have to do?
Sell our souls?
It’s impossible to excel in a world where the ninety-nine percent has no control.
Majority is supposed to rule.
Isn’t this a democracy?
We’re living in a marred shadow of what this world is supposed to be.


Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student