Expectation: The United States,
The bold, confident, popular United States.
Seductive tempter; handsome, like Adonis.
Luring the hearts of gullible others with his charisma, like moths to a flame.
Leaving his footprints everywhere he goes with his influence; like it or not, it’s here to stay.
A smooth-talking siren with a honey-sweet voice, he will leave you craving for some sweet Americana.
Even when you know too much of that is poor for your health, your desire for it is unending; you return for more.
You can be free in his home. There is peace in his home. There is equality, democracy, and all is perfect.

Right?

That’s what you’ve been led to believe.

Look again…

Reality: The United States,
The narrow-minded, ravenous, individualistic United States.
Full of vices,
And the rifle is his master.
Click-click, bang! One shot is all it takes, and then you’re gone.

Drinking from and swimming in his jacuzzi of soft drinks,
Sleeping in his lucky green bed, in the lap of luxury.
While the rest of the world heeds his back and call,
Others are trampled under his feet, begging for help.
Blissfully unaware.

The vices lie in the barrel like vipers in a pit, ready to strike:
One taunts those whose skins are not white: be they yellow as sand, as brown as wood, or as black as licorice.
One sneers at the queer, calling them freaks of nature.
One wraps itself around America’s sister, playing with her as if she were a doll.
They all whisper words that are as painful as bullets shot through the heart, and scarring as the aftermath of boiling water against the skin.
Scratching away at Mother Earth for the precious mineral,
Draining the ground for that sticky, succulent substance like a mosquito to blood;
Both as black as the night.
Waste not, want not: not in his dictionary; unsustainable use results in insatiable hunger.

Then, illusion of utopia suddenly shattered — that is the real United States.

And I, a simple girl in red, adore him, yet I am caught between the snares of admiration and disappointment.
However, I cannot hate him completely for his children have benefited the world; some of them have become my best friends.
But when I, a simple girl in red, ask for his assistance in assisting others, he turns his back on me.
And when I, a simple girl in red, offer solutions on how to better himself, he turns them down.

“Be cautious,” my friends warn me. “Keep your guard.” “Watch yourself in his presence.” I hear it all the time.
Don’t worry, I may have been swayed by him many times before, but I know better than to let myself succumb to his spell;
I’m aware of what goes on behind that mask of stars and stripes.
Yet when he treats me like a queen and says he admires me, I do not know what to believe.
Does he genuinely mean it? Or is he flattering me — another one of his shallow siren songs?

That’s why, if I were to move up North, I would rather reside in the Canadian house.
For he, they say, is a less violent and more welcoming host.
But I would look out the window every day with a sense of pity, as I observe the struggles of America’s children in their home’s current state.
And even if he does think of me, all I can do is send my sympathies to the United States.