The Melting Pot

In my verbal speech to the diverse nation, I digressed. Bang! Someone shot me for expressing myself. It was my duty to serve and protect, yet I had been shot by the people whom I had sworn on oath to serve. In contempt, I sat in the hospital and watched as they patched up my womb. I soon realized that I had lived in a place where nothing makes sense, the women are easily deceived and I had fallen victim because I wanted to do what was right. Conflicted, and eager to get well, I looked around the room as the media slithered their way into a story. Someone even knocked out the air conditioner to protest my actions. I believed in my vote and now I’m a victim. With no air conditioner, I watched as protesters stood outside the hospital, some had stop climate change signs and stop the violence t-shirts. In deep despair, I climbed on the ledge of the old hospital window, wounded and all, I shouted into the melting pot, “I, my family and all who’ve served beside me, have given everything for the will of the public, and this is the thanks we get. Open borders, gun violence and even dead children in the womb.”
The nurses rushed in to save me, but it was too late, for I dived into the melting pot and none of the citizens that I’d spent my whole life serving bothered to catch me.
The Melting Pot