Dear Bernie,

Dear Bernie,

You are the guiding light, a shining beacon of logic singing out to the sane through the smog of confusion. Your love flows through me as it flows through the hearts of all Americans, straight and gay, black and white, liberal and fascist. I feel it, Bernie. Those around me? They don’t understand you. They don’t hear your plight. They listen, but they don’t hear what I do. I hear your song and it fills me with joy. With passion. With lust. I need you, Bernie. I am but an insignificant flea on the back of the great best of burden that is you, Bernie, who plows the fields of America and sows the seeds of liberty that will be reaped by future generations. I am nothing before you, but you are my soul. Every waking thought is filled with the velvety sound of your voice and the soft folds of your face, your scars from decades of fighting for the disenfranchised on the battlefield of Washington. Where you walk, I will follow. Where you speak, I will listen. As long as you continue to fight, I will pick up my sword and charge headlong into battle for your glory. I shudder to think of what would happen if you… no, that is not even a possibility. To contemplate defeat is to welcome it into our folds, and that we cannot afford. We cannot lose this fight, for it is the will of the people. You will emerge victorious. The weak must fear the stong and Clinton will tremble at your feet.

May the gods smile upon you,
Aiden Thompson, Age 17

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