Presidential Pains

. Cast full beyond the precipice of hope the cognoscenti raise their trembling hands; scarce breathing ‘neath the weight of certainty of Liberty’s perceptible demise. . What convoluted pathway have we forged as now, blind eyes peer out from severed heads; wedged deep within the seats of learned men perceiving nought but their accursed spoil? . The mirror, crack’d, reveals the truth at last - as fractured folly stares in disbelief; “‘Tis Sophie’s choice” speaks wisdom as she yields, “your bed is made, but you will see not rest.” .