The ballots are open,
men dressed in white;
Pure, but not for long.
Behind the facade of smiles lies knives and blood,
so much blood that it drowns you.

Their hands are stained red,
the games they play casued this.
Beware,
for it is dangerous.

A slip of paper,
a pen,
you country's fate in your hands,
and your vote hidden.
'Vote! Vote! ' they cry,
but remember,
its the knives and the blood.
The knives and the blood that they are trying to
H | I |D | E |.

Dancing In Between Dreams

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ballots/