So Help Me God: or, You’re Welcome, Mr. Citizen: Part 8
I just want to be respected
By the country and the people I so love;
I just want to be accepted,
Get back to the life I left behind
And enjoy the little things forgone.
You know, son, your saliva just might
Be the cleanest damn water
That’s touched my lips in quite a while.
But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go
Somewhere to get a cool drink and a hot meal;
Because even a vine like me that bears
Bitter fruit needs to be watered. Nurtured.
Maybe us fighters are just branches
That got thorns growing on them,
But God cultivates us all the same,
So perhaps it’s time I forget you, boy,
And look forward to picking season
When the holy gardener comes in glory
To trample on the grapes of wrath
So the crop of peace can grow tall
And suffocate those awful weeds of war.