Rotted meat in my skin, shows the reverent rot,
Gagging on the stench, bring forth bile to the sick plot.
That acid is what eats away that which we fought,
Now we’re left with if, when, and ought.
Dare, would we dare to dare, dare to explore,
New areas, a new place, which we can bore,
Which we drove a flag naming it our core,
Slowly building new American lore.

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