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

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741