When I think of my country, <br />I think of a country in dire need of help. <br />I think of a country that can so easily fall. <br /> <br />When I see my country, <br />I see poverty and loss among greed and power. <br />I see so many mistakes that have been made. <br /> <br />When I smell my country, <br />I smell pollution and poison in the air. <br />I smell sweat of the hard-workers and blood of the fallen. <br /> <br />When I taste my country, <br />I taste cheap mac n' cheese from the grocery store. <br />I taste tears, salty and bitter. <br /> <br />When I hear my country, <br />I hear gunshots and explosions. <br />I hear screaming and crying coming from everybody I know and love. <br /> <br />When I touch my country, <br />I touch money, which so many people worship. <br />I touch a government that can so easily collapse. <br /> <br />When I feel my country, <br />I feel sadness and depression and hopelessness. <br />I feel hatred. <br /> <br />All of this can be summed up in one word. <br />That word is my country. <br />That word is 'America'<br /><br />Kylee Bartz<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-country-14/
