Petulant

Turn that frown
upside down,
my petulant friend,
as the nation around us
careens toward its end.
No use acting surly,
at events that have surely
proved right what we noted
the last time you voted.

52/365

A version of this poem first appeared on Bluesky. Whispered into the acoustic sensors of the sleeping dreaming android, it prompted the electric sheep to generate one more tomorrow…

The AI rendered this poem as a bleak landscape with a black sun bleeding onto a hunched figure.