Smoke fills the air, creating clouds of color. With every boom, light streaks across the sky. Glittering rain flutters down as new explosions burst above. The scent of gunpowder mixes with hotdogs and apple pie. Sweaty bodies reach towards the heavens, sparklers waving in their hands. They sing of battles won. The flag was still there. As one, we say: this is America.

Smoke fills the air, burning their lungs as they continue to march. Chains that remain locked in place after centuries of “freedom.” When will they be broken? Light flashes with every boom, as more guards arrive. Fully clad in riot gear and loaded with guns. Glass shatters as the voices of the unheard scream to be recognized. They sing of inequity. The flag was never theirs. Divided, we say: this is America.