When I was a kid,
I was told about the American Dream.
A dream where the streets were paved with gold.
A dream where people can be like King Midas –
Turn their rags to riches
With just a little bit of elbow grease.
But I have a question: Who’s dream is it?
Is it the landlord's dream, Because his tenants are paying $1,200 for a one-bedroom apartment?
Is it the loan servicer's dream,
Because the college student just got shackled with $40,000 in debt?
Is it the one percenters dream,
Because 40 million people are living in poverty?
When I was a kid,
I was told to college so I could see the world.
But the world came closing in around me.
My student debt became the walls of a 6X6 cubicle.
I am so tired of living in other people’s pockets.
I am told that my labor and time are productive.
Funny, I do not see the profits.
My nine-to-five just paid for a trip to the Bahamas.
I hope you took pictures.
So, I can see what it was like.
I just topped off my gas tank on my commute to work.
It paid for a Tesla. I hope it saves the planet.
My living expenses covered the down payment on a penthouse.
I hope the view is great,
And it’s not an inconvenience to look down on me,
Living in your slum.
When I was a kid,
I was told to pull myself up by my bootstraps.
Funny, I think mine are tied together
Because whenever I try and get ahead,
I fall on the floor of my one-bedroom apartment,
With rent knocking at my door.
My heart is racing, and I can’t catch my breath,
But I can’t go to the doctor.
I am trying to make ends meet.
When I was a kid,
I put my hand over my heart to the words:
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave,
But I don’t think that brave is synonymous with impoverished.
I don’t think that there is valor in surviving day after day.
When I was a kid,
I was told about the American Dream,
But lately, I have had sleepless nights,
Staring at my ceiling – Afraid to fall asleep.
The American Dream is the monster beneath my bed.