A text, yes. 

Three words to start it off. 

"David Bowie Died."

A morning of mourning

A friend says "I don't want to talk about it.".

I cannot say for certain whether artists hold up the sky. 

Whether are not meteors are simply trying to return our beloved dead,

Or if they are angry at our mortaility. 

All I know is that creativity was a weapon.

Words as bullets. 

Music as bombs. 

Paintings as protest.

All I see are dragons,

They are here to destroy.

To take our democracy and dismantle it. 

To take our hope and spin it into desperation. 

To take our warriors away. 

Betty White is trending on her birthday,

But she too could be a vicitim. 

This is the year of chasing dragons. 

Of watching debates held in charred venues. 

One in particular setting this country a blaze. 

We, the Americans,

The free and the proud, 

Have allowed a foreign terror in the seat of power. 

David Bowie died last year. 

He was the first in a great line of dragon slayers that perished. 

He will not be the last. 

Protests to send them back to their caves

Will do little to stop current events. 

I have taken up computer and poem as sword. 

The crown we have placed on the head of the dragon will fall. 

A text, yes. 

Three words to start it off. 

"David Bowie Died"

And so has our freedom.