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May 2017
I went to sleep, exhaustion child’s
the hot line jammed, no resort
the panic has run its course
at the start I still had hope.

Now a monster roams the world
success the measure, his driving aim
with masses lured by a frightened call
asking nothing, this they’ll have.

Against this backdrop our history called
when my friends turned to the dark
wanting security above all else
turned to fiends beyond the veil.

The decrees are the outcome
forced by a country wishing change
by the ambitious with dollar signs
carved in books, religion’s mark.

That past night they didn’t care
who had won, which one departed
this was the thought by the dismayed
now I sleep, wishing the same.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170505.
“Exhaustion’s Child” is based on some notes I gathered after the election of our 45th President.
poetryaccident
Written by
poetryaccident  54/M/Pickens SC
(54/M/Pickens SC)   
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