Never the Same, but as They Want
You and I are never going to be the same.
People, like the seasons, change.
Could it be that treason's fame
Is through collective, not individual, gain?
For if one fails to go with the grain,
That one is hammered, driven insane,
And all the world keeps moving,
Without a blink, a say.
Do you have yourself to give away,
Or a benefit to fit someone else's game?
If not, you are someone else's problem,
And that is the way you stay.
Edwin Cordero's Other Poems
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