Langston Hughes Mourns over America!

Happy Veteran’s Day!!!

The words of poets never die.

“Harlem” by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore—

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over—

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

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