Thoughts recorded on a historic and dark day in America:
I dread this nightfall.
(Isn’t it dawn somewhere?)
How long will this night be?
(Do they speak English there?)
I don’t claim authorship of this, though when I journaled it almost five years ago, I gave no credits, which is unusual. The sentiments correspond to my own.
If I was confident I wrote it, I’d be pleased. I’m only the most occasional and untutored poet.
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