Another poem I made. (I'm a poem writing machine!)

I call it "My land?"

This land is my land,
but which part?
The dark alleys where dumpsters live?
The streets where gang wars are?
the forest where nobody exists?
the sky!?

this land is you land,
but which part?
the north that's too cold?
the south that's too hot?
the west where its to oceany?
the mid-west that's too grassy?

And the government seems to have the rest.
Washington D.C., a city of large proportions.
Atlanta, where I was born.
But where's my land? and yours?
From California, I think, to the New York Islands?

Was this land really made for you and me?
Or was it made for the government?
A lab for their so-called "laws"
If they ever went right, it was accidental.