Fires burn on the horizon
cities crumble
concrete cracking
voices shrill with panic
with fear
watching as the brotherhood
fills the streets with death.
A call to arms
a call to making it great
fostering hatred
anger
disrepair
splintering a nation
that once was the model of decorum.
Blood shed
flowing in the streets
no backing down
no repreive
only volatile explosions
rocking all to their knees.
September 3/18
Photo by Dawn Armfield on Unsplash
The Wonderful and Wacky World of One Single Mom 
I hope the poem is not prophetic, given the way things are going.
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I hope not as well. Fingers crossed
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