My heart does not know
nationalities.
It only sees
children suffering,
refugees
running.
They are people that could be
different versions of me.

My anger sees deceit
but softens to the struggle
of a familial ******.
He tries to climb in my window
while I sleep.
I rage
but when he struggles to be better,
my anger subsides.
Sympathy overrides
good sense.
I do not trust him
because
he has stolen from me before,
but it is cold outside,
so I let him camp out
on a cot in my house,
on my living room floor.

My sadness sees
human beings like me
being taken in by a republican
corporate shill.
At the same time
my democrats
can’t see how fat cats
hold the leash
of their party people.
So gladiators fight it out
while businessmen make out
better than the land barons
of yester year.

My hope sees
subtle shifts,
slight variations
of people with
noble intent
periscopes down,
heads up,
they march for a better world.

My cynicism sees
my own stupidity
and laziness.
It sees a world ablaze
that will not change.
So I write it out
and go to bed
letting better men
then me
struggle to set us free.

My dreams see?