Three Weeks Later

A reflection in verse

You’d think by now the whole thing would be easier to endure
You’d still be sad and angry, but less frenzied than before
You’d make it through the day without becoming quite so tired
You’d have a conversation where “calm down” was not required
Each time your phone lit up it wouldn’t fill your heart with fear
You wouldn’t frame your plans around the phrase “if we’re still here”
You’d have a decent shot at simply sleeping through the night
You’d feel something other than a permeating blight
Instead you are reminded as each custom is defiled:
The world is being held hostage by a giant fucking child