I'm not American

What is this place
Where our souls cry,
Where leaders sabotage
And people die?

Who are these people
That have so much,
Yet feel nothing
Towards another’s touch?

America they call it,
Where our souls die,
Where the president’s an idiot
Where innocents die.

These people are Americans,
Who seem to have so much,
Yet they’re the only ones
Immune to reality’s touch.

*just wrote this because all the stuff going on in this country these days.. sorri if it offends people, but most poems aren't meant to please everyone.. please add a comment even if u dont like it.. it only helps me be a better writer.. thanks anyway people..
~lots love,
Edina* ~