Dec 26
poem challenge: Goodbye 2020

There is no title for this poem



I wish I could wish it all away. 

The pain, the tears, the scars... We are not built for this. 

We should never have had to endure this.  

Are we the glowing, dirty dystopia pictured in book after book? 


We are… indescribable. 

We are defeated, deafened by our own weapons. 

Are we lighting fires for the good of the people, or to feel the good the people lack? Are we becoming the amalgamation of bitter resentment and better butter? Are we becoming the very evil we wish to destroy? 

Are we dying?  

Lost within our own salvation, we are not ruined. 

Torn apart by knifes and colored banners, segregated by our names and our beliefs like meat before the slaughter, by whether we choose to fight or choose to live in peace. 

But what is peace? 

There is no neutral anymore, no air to breath that is not corrupted and influenced by the desires of someone who has the hubris to assume that their way is the best, that their way is the way, and the only way. 

Fortify your basements with concrete, just in case. 

Buy emergency birth control, just in case. 

Push away your neighbors, just in case. 


They might kill you for what you think. 

I will not celebrate 2020. How can I?

Isn’t there some other way to learn to live in a broken country? Or do we simply learn to heal? I remember hearing, 2020 will be our year. 

You wish, said the world, I have other plans. 

Have we brought this on ourselves?