Scrambling to pick a side,
to choose a scapegoat
and feel secure again.
The winds are changing,
that southern warmth
turns to a northern chill.
No one is sure of what to believe,
who to trust,
or where to find refuge.
There is just the constant reminder
that things are changing
and the blinding sun, is no longer blinding.
While one camp has greater vision,
the other still pretends not to understand
and in the midst people are disappearing.
It's July and I'm freezing,
watching the clock
and thinking of home.