America, the beautiful broken shattered depressed.
America, the place where we hear screams in the night.
And they may cut through the frozen midnight air, and we may cry as they make themselves known,
But those are the screams we want to hear.
The screams we are happy to let in, or the ones we make up.
We like our problems to be a problem when we want them to be.
Why?
“Because I said so, that’s why.”
So each one waits its turn, standing behind all the others.
Waiting in line to be the next big thing.
“Take a number and wait to be served.”
Global warming stands next to gay rights.
They strike up a conversation.
They make odd small talk, secretly hoping that the other will take the back seat as they get their chance to shine.
They know that one will be standing center stage, being examined by countless people.
They will poke and prod, looking for a hole in the story.
Looking for a loose thread they can pull,
So the whole story will unravel into a pile of used-to-be thread.
And the other will watch from the curtains,
Because despite their differences, they root for each other as they try to be solved.
So this America, this patch work quilt of fly over states and big guys in suits,
It needs to get its priorities straight.
Because Snookie did not help with health care.
Because Lindsay Lohan isn’t cleaning up an oil spill with her Prada Bags.
And Justin Bieber will not be the next president
Of these united states.
So make up your mind.
Turn the drama of other people into your own,
or think about things that will change the way you live.
Because you live in America the depressed.