We the people- I try to say to us
My age leaves me weak and my voice gasps,
“Am I to old for this job?” I must grasp
To reach this nation unconscious.
Ink and paper belong in a museum,
My words are lost in the new information,
Noise leaves me behind this reformation.
On my pages resides the rubble of a coliseum.
Did we the people listen? Did we adhere?
Or were we twisting my words from the start
Amendments made to keep my parchment heart
Beating, when it was better to disappear.
Like frozen Walt Disney I rest preserved
And arms will be born and rights undeserved.