"Who will help me make this Bread?"
Propaghandi

I speak my mind. I question theirs.
It seems to me like no one really cares.
Peripherally blind. intellectually numb.
Ignorance by choice? or just plain fucking dumb?
Youre threatened by my mind. you want everything the same.
But my questions still remain.
You boycott your brain. you answer with fists.
But my questions still persist.
You can rearrange my face but you cant rearrange my mind.
You can beat this shell about me, but you cant touch whats inside.
So now who will help me bake this bread?
Who will be the first to speak and leave complacency for dead?
Ive done all that I can on my own.
But stagnant minds persist to squeeze blood from this stone.
But I wont bleed for you. I have no need for you.
Death will be the day I concede to you.