The 2024 ballot was an inglorious gest,
A contest appraised as the nation’s greatest test.
A farce, a show, a mockery grand,
We cast our votes on Freedom’s last stand.
The stakes were high and supporters all in,
Battle of visions, consequences grim.
One side screamed louder, the other stood tall,
But in the end, many voters dropped the ball.
A land divided by red and blue,
Not sure which color would see it through.
We aspired for a change, but clung to the past,
A cycle repeating, a dark shadow cast.
The joke was on us and the punchline too dear,
For the truth we ignored was painfully clear.
We thought we could fix things, restore all the glory—
But the greatest self-own is the end of the story.
Yet the real decision was not in the polls,
But by the masters that remain in control.
And as we await the next act to begin,
We scoff at the chaos and the mess we’re in.
© 2025, days Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.