The End of The World

​Sometimes, I take a bus to nowhere in particular, watching it turn, maneuvering around tight bends, gentle nudging of caution sweeping the ashen roads. The city never changes, the buildings keep on building, not even the seasons, not even the people, not even a single voice cries out into the void.

“Donald Trump won.” He said. And the people, the trees, the buildings still building, raise their heads to the sky and laughed. And wept. And mourned. And laughed.

In times like these, everyone must stick together. Do not allow Trump to destroy the fight you have been fighting yout whole lives. Live out of spite. Thrive. And never give up hope.

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