Old glory wraps itself in the wind

An orange glow decorates itself in the dark

Forgotten words spill from its stars and stripes

Smoke and confusion seem to swirl around it

Hope and hate navigate in between its folds

Words seem to fulfill its name but become hallow

Justice is numb with every flick of its colors

The only man to wave it above him is a diehard

To wave the colors is a lost memory of the ones before

Because they never meant what was before them

Manifest destiny went to the Pacific Ocean and beyond

They lead south to people who only wanted direction

Old glory may remain above us but as a reminder

Of what we have done to the world.