The Vote Poem by Cynthia Buhain-baello

The vote, so what really is in it?
Is it your muted citizen's voice still
Or a fragment of your perceived myth
A mirage of control or irrelevant will?

Is it now a mere antiquated concept
A historical relic of rights long ago,
Obsolete in meaning but we now must accept
As a remnant of the form we used to know?

Is it a pass for some clowns in a circus
A trip through the rings and house of horrors?
The vote is so empty, speech no more precious
The performance given is a game we abhor.