Facsim

In the wake of suicide

Folder: 
Poetry

The day America died, her children fell on their swords, the loss they could not bare, the slow, suffocating death of mother; the death that came not from a foreign enemy, or rival power, but from neglect from her own offspring. Those who turned on the liberty and freedom she'd nurtured them with from birth; those who no longer cared left her to die from the cancer they'd elected.

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