Peace Offerins by BÜZÊM

A poem. A story. It is cast against us. We are the slaves. We continue to accept what they shove down our throats like prostitutes hoping for a free meal.

You. I. Us. We all. It takes nothing to change. You just have to want it to change.

Does it mean we give of ourselves or do we give up of ourselves? Or do we simply just give up? I wish I knew the answer.

Who ever actually has any concept of anything tangible? It always seems we follow a path from someone who had a vision and let it fail.

Maybe this can be the moment we stop this and move in a different direction...

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