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Irate Watcher Aug 2014
You found friction,
when so many told you
to slip down with them.

You were the safety
to a gun-wielding chorus screaming:
"Fire!"

Shoved from the Fourth
you fought to protect,
to being snowed-in,
half a hemisphere away
from the coconuts
and palm trees you fled.

Hotel room to hotel room,
the flesh from your skin dissolves,
piece by piece —
like a nation's artifacts.

Resigned to watching
a comedian's suicide
trend on Twitter —
an individual who made it easier
to laugh and forget the words:
"Liberty and Justice for All."

You should grimace.
Silenced. Snowed-in.
Unable to even say,
"America — please shovel me out."
I made this poem into a video! http://youtu.be/KEFwC8C_WRc

If you like, share with #shoveloutSnowden

— The End —