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The Ballot Choice

It isn't achieved with revolution,
Not a violent war to win or lose,
Change of office or redistribution,
We choose.

When all insulting satire songs are sung,
When battles waged sans bullet, bomb and bruise,
When verbal and pictorial mud is slung,
We choose.

When we lick our figurative wounds
Accepting, glad it doesn't come to blows,
Results, though we may face like mournful tunes
We chose.

When all is said and done, we're blessed;
To have this freedom; patriots paid their dues,
So, in the issues of citizen's interest,
We choose.

©08/08/2011 Carol Morfitt
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