It doesn’t echo like the comfort of snow

It’s miserable.

Darkness comes an hour earlier,

Stocks plummet,

Dead presidents roll in their graves.

Many took bathroom breaks from parties

And returned to funerals.

We shelve our books

And unlock the weapons from our armories.

Rewriting reality

For what we see

What we can’t believe

Is happening.

Lying will only buy you more time

It’s what we’re best at

After all.

Blindfolding one another

Leading

Then

Walking straight off a cliff.