Jerry, I’m your mother, now what is it?

All Manner of Things Unwell

Thought things were better
Thought I might survive
Thought fewer were hating
And plotting genocide

Had so many plans
So much to create
So many to lift up
Such joy to await

Now it’s all crashing down
Like an avalanche
Nowhere to take cover
No righteous circumstance

Stuck in a holding pattern
By ignorance and greed
A hostage to hate
Dying to be freed

Dying to be freed
We’ve been here before
Thought this was finally something
Our country stood for

Wrong, so wrong
Can’t unclench teeth
Can’t eat or sleep
Can barely breathe

Don’t want to cry
Watching Americans suffer
Don’t want to die
Knowing things will get tougher

Faith was first to jump ship
Beneath an epic guilt trip

Know where this is leading
So many bear this fear
Alone in the silence
Headlight-captured deer

Body is failing
‘Bout all that is left
Spirit is weeping
Fate inevitable by theft

Mind running for cover
The Babies are crying
Soul fading to nothing
The Babies are dying

Nightmare reality
Locked in the cage
Never wanted to trade
My life for your rage

My life isn’t mine
It’s all an illusion
Not being a slave
A painful delusion

Suppose it’s too late
To become pro-abortion
Already born
In time to die for extortion

Many are shocked
Think right-skinned might make it
We’re all niggers now
Just so one man could fake it




4 thoughts on “Jerry, I’m your mother, now what is it?

  • Thanks, Mel. Love you, too. I’m burned out. Anger is fleeting (for me) and the poem used it up. Pain is the only cost of caring, so it’s probably fair. I have to feel it to process it, which sucks, but I suspect everyone is in the same boat, so I guess it’s fair, too. At least it makes us grow, (and I feel like I’m behind, so… Silver linings (made of generic tinfoil.) Thanks for thinking of me and being my friend. 💜

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