scratching the surface,
we’re struggling to shed the skin
of our dysfunction

the sky wears a scowl
just before it opens up
and begins to howl

meet me ’round the bend
at some point before the end
before it’s too late

we never question
the wisdom of people who
confirm our beliefs

a majority can’t
decide whether to vote, but
a minority can?

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please believe in love,
but have the respect to not
speak of it lightly

is there redemption?
can we recast the culprit
as the next hero?