It has withered to dust, like a rose in glass,
Not protected from shadows,
Or ghosts from the past.
Controlled by the enemies of a state worth fighting for,
Thoughts can’t be thought.
Fashioned into a uniform,
Cut into a square,
With scissors so deep,
A scar sure to be bared.
See what is fake for what is real,
Say what they want to hear
And never doubt
That someone might be standing near.
And all it ever was–was hollow.
Hollow like the trunk of a dead tree,
That stands so graciously,
Its wispy limbs swaying in the frigid breeze.
About the Author
Alexandra Varkarotas is a second-year marketing major at UT Austin. She has been writing poetry since sixth grade, and enjoys writing about nature, love, and politics. Other than writing poetry, she enjoys producing two shows for Texas Student Television, acting, dancing, and learning other languages.