Black President, White America

I sit alone on a cloud over looking the world. The air is still and the night is quiet. All the eyes in the world hold golden slumbers but mines. I stay awake as the worlds worries. I am the cannon ball of a country as it dives into troubled waters. I am the storm that creeps in discouraging the big black ship of hope. That search and rescue vessel you voted your prayers on to save you. I am the white thunder and lightning who enhances the storm. The captain seems beaten now. He has battled this storm for two long years and with every inch he gains a piece of his vessel was lost. A piece of himself.
Before he embarked on this journey he was already at a lost. His age, his experience were all scrutinized. And I was the one that did it. I was the pictures of a Muslim and the questions with no answers. I was the big racist remark in the room that nobody said but everyone thought of. I was a old white house with no wish on being coated a new shade of black. I was set in my ways. They may not have been ways that necessarily work, but they were my ways none the less.
Now I am still the same stubborn image that refuses to change. I am a legacy of  white wigs and  red blood. I am a legacy of paper and ink, a legacy of  famous quotes and  one liners that rattled a nation. The revolution will not be televised, and neither will change. For the one soul who believed he could venture out and save those under water. Who believed he could bring a new way.
Hello,……..I am America.

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