The American Nightmare

a poem by me. Disclaimer: The video was not created by me.


America, we are your mannequins.  
You tell us to be perfect.  
So we become your idea of perfect. 
You say you have to be skinny. 
So we starve ourselves. 
We become skeletons,  
just skin and bones. 
To satisfy what you have commanded us to do. 
You give us a fashion magazine and say, 
“You must look like this.” 
So we dye our hair until it falls out, 
and paint our lips blood red  
until your words are bleeding from our mouths, 
and cut our skin open to look like something else. 
America, you tell us to follow our dreams. 
But somewhere a single mother of five 
who gets paid minimum wage 
cries herself to sleep at night, 
because her only son has died 
to fight your fight. 
Somewhere on the streets 
a war veteran who has given you  
everything, sleeps on the cold stone concrete, 
and wonders what will become of him. 
America, you don’t care.  
So go fuck yourself with your atomic bomb. 
Because as long as you have your 50 inch  
flat screen TV, your Caddie, you XBOX 360  
and your little Louis Vuitton bags, you’re fine. 
Right?  
America, you are not living, you’re dying the American Dream.