Chaos

Suspicions seem to lure quaint
Moments like these are harrowing
Though many sense it redoubtable
It's all very queer
Everything is on the reel
Causing many to allay

Many crave the allaying

These troubles are quaint

Many sense the harrowing

The leaders are claimed redoubtable

Actions seem to be queer

Many are reeled

How can we stop that reel
When all solutions deny allaying
And all the pain becomes quaint
Foreign leaders become harrow
Things begin to seem redoubtable
Those we follow seem queer

Many of the queer

Seem to be the reason for the reel

Though they continue to allay

Reasoning becomes quaint 

And the injured are harrowed

Although they are redoubtable

Citizens are standing; redoubtable
Times like these are cracked and queer
Shaking figures on the reel
No simple words can allay
Even that word is faded and quaint
The bitter words gnawing; harrowing

The feeling of being forsaken is harrowing

And gods are claimed redoubtable

It all seems rusty and queer

Sacrifice the midnight to save the reel

Everyone is calm: allayed

The bitter memories are now quaint

Have they calmed the reel?

Are we fully allayed?

Perhaps if this moment, this year becomes quaint.