The legacy of FDR

I struggle to walk to the red, blue, and white striped podium.

I stumble from behind and nearly reveal my bulking braces.

I’m not sure if anyone has spotted them.

The pupils of my country

cheer for my presence.

The band blowing proudly into their rhythmic trumpets.

The crackling sound of millions clapping in unison.

These are sounds worthy of powerful figures.

I don’t deserve it.

The people,

They seek a peaceful moment

away from the poverty-stricken environment around them.

Their eyes look desperate for help.

I lend them aid in bold words.

I announce: “The only thing we need to fear is fear itself!”

I speak through the dwarf sized microphone,

which enriches the fluency in my voice.

The air

carries the soundwaves of a new yorker accent

distributing

hope.

It is bliss, and my point is made.

The applause from the crowd

screams wildly.

My ears welcome this noise.

My shoes are shined black,

my suit and pants lint free,

and a white smile that strengthens the bond of America.

I feel like an imposter.

Their president is hiding a secret

beneath his costly pants.

Something so disabling,

The public might shatter into empathy.

I want to get out.

My legs groan of discomfort,

and my knees whimper in pain.

I’m afraid the sturdy metal will begin to falter.

Embarrassment and shock are imminent.

My mind tells me to escape

and I push for the exit.

Every step back to the distant car,

is like a struggle for breathing.

My legs will soon burst of exhaustion.

The cracked pavement extends the difficult journey.

Concrete is harsh and dense,

I wish it wasn’t.

My feet are scorching hot, and are numbingly weak.

I enter the expensive black limousine.

and switch to my wheelchair.

I swing my head towards the back of my seat

and think.

My legacy is a total lie.

I fear death, yet they don’t.

My speech has ripped their worries away,

While I fail to relate due to my disease.

My legs wobble uncontrollably,

My sweat is drained from every pore,

and my conscious aches

Nervous of when the clock will strike collapse.

It can’t end like this!