Politics

I am in french class right now. In germany. My brain is a language mess.

Twisted and misted,
In chambers complex,
Hands tightly fisted,
And talking codex.

Some dream of power,
Others peace…
Those grow a flower,
Surrounded by bees.

They take the action,
Or let it be,
Can lead a fraction,
Or tend to flee.

Some call them heroes,
Either forced or free,
Other’s go to demos,
Can they take thee?

In the end it can happen,
For the lines to flatten,
A sophisticated kind,
Always has an own mind.

And so the future is right in front of us,
But never to be seen,
And those who claim to do so,
Are rarely being keen.