The ballot is a briarberry bush
You reach in
and depending on how you move
how you think
how you learned
studied,
watched.
you can pull your hand out with so many things.
Maybe you got a hand full of berries. (Move on to a improved country)
maybe you cut your hands on every thorn. (Move down to another 4 years of pain.)
Maybe the berries are really poisonous. (Move down to a war with an innocent country)
maybe the thorns had a positive effect. (Move up to a somehow improved world.)
How did YOU pick your bush?
This poem is about:
My country