• The Losing Ballot

    I grip the choice that’s in my hand and don’t know what to do,

    Do I run away and hide my face or work against the truth.

    I hold that choice close to my heart then mark a single box,

    A future hinged on paper slips sliding in a box.

    My choice is never simple and it’s hard to make it now,

    But life waits for no man don’t ever forget that now.

    So now the time comes, to walk across the stage,

    To hear the clamor of a thousand hands scribbling away...

    The choice that sits now in my hand seems to weigh a hundred tons,

    So I drop it in the simple box and now Its all begun.