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politics
Breath this paid for line
Make me see your imagined path
As this road is drawn by writers quill
Fabricated belief is propogandas’ birth
Oh, how you feel my countrys’ ache
A crowd at a time
Tell us plans of future times
Knowing full well, what is the chance
Proclaim your love and show ill will
For such fortitude as needed for my earth
Is beyond your reach to take
And this indeed, is crime
Fail me, as you will
I am but one, amongst this mass
But in the end all will fail
If yours is set to pass
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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha
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