Poetry

The President

Image for post
Image for post

Watch his tone supply the room

Then mathematically, without hope, his time would cause humiliation

With supported sympathy for some

But against the necessary and ideal

His reality always seemed the great artificial

Trying to temper your conscience

Turning love to suspicious coldness

Deepening his standing through opinions

Few omens could be louder

Will he allow military prayers for our remains

Written by

Property Manager, Credit Specialist and Writer in addition to being a mother of four kids, two dogs, two birds and a turtle. www.kyliesrants.net

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