Late night and the bed sheet is a noose
and I haven’t slept since November
and I toss and turn in the grey hum of grief--counting votes like sheep
and the nightmare won’t let go of me
and I don’t know who to trust
cause even the un-trustworthy don’t
know who they are
or recognize themselves in each other
and I like fewer and fewer people
in this rural town
and my PTSD is back
and I can attest to that.
And I think: This is how those folks in Dallas felt the day evil grew legs and walked along
Elm Street.
And what weighs more: A hundred votes or a hundred bullets?
And you ruined my America and,
no…I won’t forgive you.
By: evelyn augusto November 15th 2016
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 7:22 AM UTC
Late night and the bed sheet is a noose
and I haven’t slept since November
and I toss and turn in the grey hum of grief--counting votes like sheep
and the nightmare won’t let go of me
and I don’t know who to trust
cause even the un-trustworthy don’t
know who they are
or recognize themselves in each other
and I like fewer and fewer people
in this rural town
and my PTSD is back
and I can attest to that.
And I think: This is how those folks in Dallas felt the day evil grew legs and walked along
Elm Street.
And what weighs more: A hundred votes or a hundred bullets?
And you ruined my America and,
no…I won’t forgive you.
By: evelyn augusto November 15th 2016
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