Challenge
Challenge of the Week CCXXII
Write a poem about America.
America, I guess
It's like
they call us the melting pot
but it seems like after we dump out the pot
and all the ingredients are mixed up
we just seperate to how it was before it went in the pot
on the cutting board
all isolated
all different
and the only time we really are a melting pot
is when we boil
i guess
when we flow over the top
and end up all over the floor
when we start jumping and screaming so much that maybe the chef might hear
and you know what
the chef is actually us
I mean, can you believe that
We are the ingredients
but we are also the chef
cause we gotta put it all together
I guess
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