Will We Suvive A Manipulated Democracy? Poem by Sandra Feldman

We now have,
A very big battle,
Of who, (or is it whom?) ,
Is going to lead the American cattle.

Never before seen,
2 such candidates.

From Wuthering Heights,
(wuther=to blow with a dull roaring sound)
We've fallen very low,
Leaving our muddy footprints,
In a slosh of political snow
Unable to think for ourselves
Or even grow
Laying there, inertly
As the cold wind of defeat,
Howls and blows.

Forgive me for being so depressed
But at least with these words
My civic conscience is at rest.

Where do we go from here?
The rest of the World awaits
To embrace and open the gates
To what was once our greatest fear
The death of Democracy,
The only one, once alive
In this spinning Sphere.