Dear Anonymous American

 

I know it’s not your fault.

You caught it by default.

 

All he ever wants – exalt.

We wander through double talk.

 

From the top we get assault.

Our wounds get rubbed with salt.

 

You’re now in burial vault

of his askew surreal pole vault.

 

His mind flexible as cobalt

while your life was lost.

 

I’m sorry this thunderbolt

somersaulted your life to halt.

 

And if I say I’m sorry

it’s from one deep in worry

 

that you’re one of the many

his lack of caring had to bury.