The shot whispered
Low velocity, minimum casings, a ho hum, hum
The sound greatly went unheard
The exit wound provided details
The fresh coating, painted seats,
The cavalcades’ destination not yet reached,
The entrance went unseen
For the many who broke vows for promise
Tradition left in muddled ruins
Fathers and sons, dinner segment opposite side of room,
Buyers’ remorse, this election came all too soon
To the man that walks the street this day,
The tears from a society
Weakened by the sweeping feet
Voices pared with vinegar
In some words were spackled with sincerity for a long dear friend,
In others sorrow genuine and true,
But for some, the sentiment of woe is me and those who do not care,
A range of reflections presently clear, including those I feel the most sorry for,
The many with an uncanny sense of relief
To them, this time the pain came without courtship, with no wait
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