November the 8th 2016 my hope for world progress was killed in defeat.

I was almost killed too, on that day, driving home. My vision was skewed by a murder of crows.

When I made it back home, I went straight to my room. I grieved for our world and our impending doom.

Then we faced gloom and doom until 2020. When Joe gave us hope when we didn’t have any.

Yet in his great term through 2024 Trump’s chaos continued to destroy even more.

But I still held out hope that Kamala would change this. But the truth of the future, my eyes couldn’t face this.

This time I went blind in one literal eye, not wanting to see we weren’t through this dark night.

I now feel the duress, hope repressed, for nine years. Great trauma and stress, in constant great fear.

But this time around I consciously know I’ve always been powerless and this time must let go

By grieving my traumas so I don’t succumb. Cry all of my tears til I’m no longer numb.

And can feel what is real, have an insight revival. Know that more of Trump’s chaos wakes souls in denial.

So if finally a critical mass can create a paradigm shift, we’ll be free from Trump’s fate,

After four thousand three hundred eighty two days. On November 7th 2028.