Things of dreams, of hopes,
This life I live and all that I have,
The promise of America, a ghost long dead.
Stripped of humanity, stripped of dignity, I see the pain in her eyes;
Mine tear for her, for the psychopath she has become,
She hates her children, punishing them for their ignorance.
But who is to blame, we’ve offered our souls to the Devil with each election,
Perpetuating our own destruction, more of the same does not breed change.
Perhaps I am guilty as any choosing to write as my protest.
Is my hope to inspire sufficient?
Only time will tell.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~