• I Once Dreamt I Could Change
    By N.A.Triantaffelow

    Violins played formally
    Like a melody--
    Such sanctity,
    These golden strings pluck heavenly...
    Voices sung in chorus cries,
    A beauty seen--through your eyes,
    Now, if only those weren't bitter lies,
    I'd bring about a new class rise.
    Instead, instead, we shall all
    Sit and wait, for the fall.