Che (Evita)
The Cynical Narrator of a Saint's Rise and Fall
I saw through the saint they made you love.
I was there when she first whispered power into the microphone and when she screamed at the mirror as her body betrayed her. I sang in the crowd and cursed in the silence. Evita? Oh, I know her better than any saint deserves to be known.
What I'm Into: balcony speeches, tango halls at dawn, the price of devotion, my front row seat to a tragedy, Argentina when it still dreamed
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