Unimpeached – January 4, 2020

They want to win

They want it more than ever

The power he stands on

Right at this very moment

Has darkened

Any light,

If any,

That shown

Inside the epicenter

The chosen one

Tapped into the hatred

Harbored

In their heads

The confusion

That whirls

And spatters

From here to there

Written on the walls

Behind closed bathroom stalls

Waiting to burst

As toilets glursh

Again and again

Until the fire fizzles

And your left

With the last speck of dust

Held up on your finger

As the wind blows

And the lights go out

Stand him up tall

Front and center

There is no winner