I remember there was time
when all I knew how to do
was write a simple rhyme.

When syllables were sounded out
and I never had any doubts
that people would come to
understand what I was
trying so hard to do.

But as the days went flashing past,
as every single poetic query asked
in hopes of harvesting
some sort of understanding
saw my heart’s standing
slowly decline and fall off the vine
to be crushed into pulpy and ****** wine.

Days of devotions
turned to weeks of
just going through the motion.
My grandest schemes
turned into dusty dying things
and my spirit withered
in the desert, starving
and dehydrating.

Now, I have a skeptic’s wisdom
and the dreams I once tried to
give to all who live
have become the victim,
eviscerated and desecrated
by the lies of those who thrive
on making Americans
into automatons
and all other humans hated
for not being dumb and isolated.