I, too, Sing America.
My lyrics may not flow from my latest Instagram post,
Or be scrawled on a discarded Starbucks cup.
No!
They are hidden, both by me and the world.
A swan drowning in a paradise-like ocean,
A dreamer destroyed by subtle shade,
A million priceless masterpieces stolen, the matter like that of a misplaced napkin.
I, too, Sing America.
Yet the world does not care.
One day, I may rise above the world,
Like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly.
But for now, I huddle at the bottom,
A discarded idea,
A song never to be sung.
I, too, Sing America.
Their doubt like an epidemic, an unstoppable infection,
Spreads…
To me.
My wings falter mid takeoff,
Legs buckle right before the signal to start the race.
Do I Sing America?
Yes!
My melody may be fresh,
The style unheard.
I am the dawn of a new age,
An Original, still singing, America!