Twenty-Twenty
Twenty-Twenty
Twisting like twine
With eyes like mine
Crossed, vexed, distressed
In a world’s war-torn song
Born into clamoring all along
Distrustful, yet glamorized
By lying wayward eyes that bind
Stuck perpetually in rewind
Waiting in hatred personified
Paralyzed and polarized
Both in the same rhyme
With eyes like pine
Brittle and restless
The land of the free
Now brutal as could be
Dying in spoiled spite
By dawn and twilight
The night sky lingers
Bitter and stale
Men and women stare
In despair and disrepair
No escape from the scene
Hospitals overflowing at the seams
Misgivings becoming unadulterated facts
Politicians lacking tack
Twenty-twenty what a year
Colorful, yet not color blind
Filled with wild fire but no room for tears to snuff them out
Only fears displaced our common ground
To make us see what is not there
Who knows where we go from here
The vision was tainted by boys in blue and men in red hats
Madness and truth at a precipice
But light shines in dark places
At twenty degrees on our knees
As bent reflectors make heed
In the nooks and crannies of our hallowed halls
We have survived the smog that befalls
The speckles of dust in our eyes will fade in time
But in the meantime
our memoirs will conclude
If only we had 20/20
We would have skipped 2020
