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The Aftermath MAG
February 2, 2017
Crying she led me
To the glowing TV downstairs:
The final numbers displayed boldly,
A win for the Red.
Victory was his,
Against all odds.
The silent majority had delivered,
And Mother is weeping.
I stand beside her,
Confused at her shocked outrage.
We are who we are,
Regardless of who speaks louder.
Perhaps the fantasy
That we are of one mind
Is at last meeting Death.
Or will we
Continue pretending
And dwelling in ignorance,
Listening to rambling news anchors
Sing music to our ears?
© Erica P., Wolfforth, TX
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