The world's weight

2016
seems like
an eon ago,
and then no time at all.
Life moved on
as normal
but I was
so
so
scared
like
the world's weight was
on my back –
and I fell,
drowning in the folds of Lady Liberty's gown,
scorched by her torch,
stabbed by her crown.
I fell
because Lady Liberty doesn't stand for
what she used to.

2020.
It seemed so far away
last year,
the year before,
the year before that.
I honestly didn't think 
I would survive
four years
of hell,
of being afraid to
be myself in public.
But the public is screaming
and their voices are drowned
in a tide of racism,
homophobia,
sexism,
so many things –
too many things.

November third,
that's when it's all going to go down.
The White House
is stained red
with the blood of those
whom its residents have killed,
some Handmaid's Tale-type stuff.
The Oval Office,
fitting a square peg in a round hole.

Damn, I wish I could vote.
But I can't
because the world is corrupt
and I am lost and trapped in some fascist dictatorship
that I never, ever wanted.
You say the next generation holds the world?
Prove that you think so.

Because the election 2020
is an atomic bomb
and America's
about 
to blow.