The Nation’s Feast

Hidden behind these blurry lines
Are tearing books with broken spines.
These books are the structure of newer American minds.

We're served their evasive nature on silver platters
Because they see that we care not of important matters.
On the left, politics and the local news,
On the right, parties, friends and social media too.

We believe these people keep the flood waters below our knees
When they really throw us under the waves.
We can feel the sun, we can see it shine,
But it's breaking above us in crystal lines.

There's no food at the table but the emptiness is plenty;
We feast like raving roaches on our minds so empty.
We keep drinking the wine, a poison of theirs;
The nation is dying in front of our eyes but nobody cares.

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