Sorry for this not being a poem; I just don't have much to say right now.
It's a lil after one in the morning, but I'm not up, due to anything bad going on, or too many thoughts creeping in my mind. I'm up reading Dreams From My Father, by Obama.
I've been reading it for about a week now, and since about 9 PM this evening, straight-through. I hope the cat who's running for President is as trill as the dude who's in this book (he was in his mid-30s when he wrote this). It may seem odd to see what I'm saying, but if you've read it, or will read it, you'll see exactly what I mean. Basically, I just hope he hasn't, or doesn't, get poisoned by outside bullshit, or anything else that can a detriment, or not be sincere.
I'm gonna end this now, and get back to my reading. Be easy.