Guns, Flags, & idiots

I hear those idiots talking
About flags ands guns
Walking in traditional circles
Listening to rhythms already sung

Talk is tough and regurgitated
From struggles years gone
But they know rust never sleeps
So they swallow cotton candy chains

I hear about crayon boxes empty
With colors faded and missing
What color is red, white and blue
A shade of jealousy or greed

It’s a sign to big to be read
Like a forest hides a tree
As if it doesn’t exist for paper
Surely no one sees the burs

If your outside the curve , hide
They’ll feed on your difference
Like squeezing juice from a fruit
And discarding the pulp


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