Nothing's The Same
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Nothing feels the same; in my day,
innocence was shielded by love.
And folks who bent a knee to pray,
found that the words fit like a glove.
One did not venture far from town:
the world was much bigger back then.
Teens never carried guns around,
and prayers ended with Amen.
Men wrote poems for a lady,
instead of texting on the phone.
And politicians, though shady,
seemed to at least have some backbone.
Marchers weren't mowed down by a van:
and school kids weren't shot in their schools.
Only kooks joined the Ku Klux Klan:
and the NRA didn't dictate gun rules.
There's no way to go back in time:
though the present's a scary place.
And as our anxieties climb;
I only hope love can keep pace.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018
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