AUMF (Americans United Manifest Fear)

In the beam of light from a cracked door,
There lies hope.
Not the soft and pillowy hope of children,
But the exciting, adrenaline-rush of optimism,
That a second place racer feels,
When witnessing downfall.
The shadowed faith often mistook for fear.
Jittering they throw their voice to the darker-ness,
With sinister timbre,
“We are coming.
Imminent and many,
We lie in wait no longer.
Your world is ours.”
And what ‘men’ jumped at the sonic ghoul,
Inflating their beer-barrel chests with 2 parts hot air,
One part canned response.
So mighty they were batting against shadows,
Propping up scarecrows just so they could tear them down,
Broken and tied:
A valiant victory.
Still, hope persists,
Compounded by the lack of exit-strategy;
After all, the only cost of confession is pride.
Failure is not an option, exist-fiscally.
We have already bought into the light at the end of the now-closed door,
And our credit line is spent.
The cabal of True Men will not abide,
Our shoddy attempts to shout reason,
Won’t even hear our tries at raising,
Above the crowd, some elevated emotion:
Clarity.
For their posts are popped up on the picket signs of the afraid.
The ambiguity of representation dissipates with the distinct lack,
Of a captive audience to manipulate.
If only I could make you see,
The humans that hide behind the masks that you blink into existence,
Perhaps we could rid ourselves of this tainted promise,
And give birth to a new road to write our history along:
A path pressing forward for our children to find their own home along.
“Isn’t it pretty to think so?”
The broken men can have their hope,
And I’ll keep my own:
“Soon I will sleep, eyes closing to a world tarnished with flesh,
And then wake to a polished vision”

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