There’s a point I think we’re missin’,
It’s in the air we raise our fists in,
In the smiles we cast each other,
My sister, my brother.
About the time we gave up hope and
We never find these locks still open,
Stumbling on stones unturned,
The hurt we feel, we all have found.
The lines we’ve crossed in search of change, but all they see is treason.
– Brandon Barnes
© David Guillén