Spilling over valley walls,
frozen peaks,
city limits,
the unsettled West,
settlers setting down white picket fences
across flat arid fields.
A voice in unison,
ringing out from all corners
of a flat world,
cries out,
"change for me,
change to me".
They move too quickly,
the weight of their destiny
too heavy for me to weather.
A step together,
a march like a freight train,
takes hold over me.
Too many people
kick up too much dust,
fill my lungs
with their votes-
one for each man.
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