There was no first day.
No clean line between now and then.
They just kept coming,
Week after week,
Each hour
Componding
The dread.
The world is not as it used to be.
It never is – but this time's different.
There is no one to blame
In a way that matters,
Not really.
It would be a tragedy and a mercy
To forget those better days;
A folly to forget
They were not always better.
One day,
Someone will come along to dissect these times,
Clarifyign it into a neat line of dates and labels.
But for now –