Poison blackened veins like the roads through the grasses of NorthAmerica
It's an old hand that carries the candle through the dark
Shaking and praying. Winter in her blood
Panicked. Confused
Desperation in the flicker of light on the whites of her eyes
Moaning, gasping, clutching a screwdriver franticly stabbing
It looks like Ms. America got into the pills again
She tripped on some errant talking points and broke her hip on Afghanistan
Heavy lies the crown. We're not the first and we won't be the last