Can we just stop, and breathe?

how long have we been running on empty? these iron shackles, bruised ankles of a past not our own a burden not ours to carry were we present when the first bullet left its chamber? energy wasted, innocently castrated can we just stop, and breathe? this futile, endless race heeding to banal songs of us against them dodging a thousand spears with every step we take fingers pointing hidden frames recoiled an eye for an eye that leaves us all blind can we just stop, and breathe? for only when we stop do we see the true color of each other’s eyes pass miniscule diversities relishing at the vast oasis of harmony are we really so different you, me? suffer, we all did now can we just stop, and breathe? even if we allow the dead to testify certify these words, they would “why don’t we all just stop and breathe?”