Written by Sophie Corless.
Graphic by Peyton Cabaniss.

“I can feel your incriminations and your judgment, and I am fine with that.”

Cheney lies on a cold metal table with his chest opened wide,
A pulseless void where a heart should reside,
An expendable heart hovering his physical form,
Political morality, a quiet storm.
His chest is filled with a stronger motor,
To power his power over every voter.
The valves are connected and blood starts pumping,
A matter of time until he is up and hunting.
Five heart attacks, and his irregular heartbeat,
Cheat, deceit, defeat, repeat.
Money powering his nervous system,
if you aren’t paying attention you might just miss him.
How much power is enough power?
One man acting as the nation’s control tower.

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