As I beat myself up for neglecting to set the example of taking advantage of my right to vote,
I am lost.
As I judge those who fail to see clearly the vacuous Hitler-esque Donald Trump,
I am lost.
As I rage at America’s immediate satisfaction desiring attempts of drastic change which leave chaos,
I am lost.
As much as I would rather lose half the time than have a dictatorship with someone I agree with,
I am lost.
As I cut my hair in an impulsive confusion,
I am lost.
As I struggle for a hopeful thought,
I ask,
Who do I want to be?
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