Despite the despicable sunburn of the soul

Despite the despicable sunburn of the soul
I digress
As much as possible
In the distress of World War II tragedies
That amount to more than I could ever touch let alone handle
Cast down by the returns
Of an election
And a return to how things were handled
In an ancient caveman day
Of recycled platitudes
Inglorious cronies
In all their actions talk and thoughts
As if the political differential didn't matter
Absconded as we are by the moment
Dispatched in our next inclusionary vision
As if the ball went back and forth
Despite the stillness of the minds that actually exist
Without any wish for change
Or rallying to truth

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