Rich Men Dressed as Artists Sold the Original Copy of America

America is in the pudgy, fucking gluttonous hands  
of a denizen who spent his bread to rudder the land:  
to stuff the rich and fuck the poor and double-fuck the minorities;  
to be the white man with money leading bland milk and porridge; he's  
sipping on billions; farewell to any dream of milk and honey  
now that this land is such a sundry; least no head can wonder  
which nervous system grips the country to dip it in this ugly blunder -  
 
what a little curse I'm under - seventeen and exposed:  
the four most vital years of my life: guided and let go;  
let slip - will I go hungry and jobless because I'm trans?  
Will Republican justices ensure that, tossing my demands,  
services can be refused; to the government, I don't exist  
and who I know I am don't count for shit since I was born with tits;  
been scorned a bit - I can take a horde of hits, my forest is the thickest,  
but I'm on a hitlist for resistant diction -  
 
let me paint a Trumpless picture:  
freedom tall with none to kick her -  
now it's hateful faces biting like some hounds when Master sounds the clicker -  
a margin of ardent civilians who didn't give a shit about her  
read in Red with eyesight clouded:  
choked that woman while she shouted.