I went to visit the fireworks show one night with my family. There I saw a bruised woman, and watched a child get slapped. I contemplated the situations.
Red, White and Blue….
Celebration of one nations glory.
Hundreds of people all swarmed together.
They watch explosions of colorful fury.
As each explosion comes to its end,
I watch the sparks float down again.
Like little tiny fairies.
I really wonder,
about fireworks and freedom.
Haven’t they always gone hand in hand….
fireworks, and freedom?
Look around!
One woman stands in the masses,
and looks away long enough to wonder.
Look around at all the carefree children,
and deep down inside she knows…
that one out of six are being fucked by their fathers.
This is what our fore-fathers fought for?
So, great-grandchildren could live in fear?
One woman stands alone in the masses,
and looks away…at the eyes of her sisters.
And she wondered to herself how many were living with the bruises.
In the glow of a white explosion..
She saw a sister who had taken a blow…
She knew that she was not all alone…
Is this what our fore-fathers fought for?
For women to be mistreated?
And she looked at her brothers,
and tried not to believe that they really are not monsters.
Monsters who use, abuse…and throw away….
…maybe some of them….really can care….
Who’s fucking? Who’s beating? And who’s just not so blatant?
Why if they love their daughters so much do they teach them to be so complacent?
One woman stands alone in the masses,
she watches the pink and purple explosions…
and sighs to herself..
This is what our fore-fathers fought for?
and the fireworks…they stand for the war!
They fought for our freedoms….
