A Massachusetts pallor sets my soul
Aquiver, cloying vapor, no escape
From pending loss, of dreams digested whole.
Election leaves depression in its wake.
But one year since Obama set us free
When Slash! The strings our every move controlled
Sliced by Hope's blade, regained our liberty
The puppeteers their toys cast in their hold.
Their trap, a liar in a pickup cries,
"I'm one of you!" Compelling puppet brings
A veiled agenda, writ by moneyed ties
Four million puppets blithe retie their strings.
"I am not dead!" the year old baby cries.
The facts quash Truth! I mourn while Freedom dies.
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