What I’m Not, by Heath Brougher

I am not a silent poet

The whole world may be laughing at them,
but they’re not laughing at me.
I am no american.
I run with no herd.
Have allegiance to no one but my Self.
Yet they try to call me an american
just because I happened to have been born
at a particular place in the world?
Once again Proximity reigns,
along with the axiomatic insanity of society.

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