Call it Progress

The people built the wall 

With their hands in their pockets 

Brick by brick 

Lifted over heads bowed low

 

Then they tore it down 

Hands bleeding 

Boots scuffing over the rubble

 

And when the bricks were dust 

They remembered why the wall was there 

So they picked up their tools 

And built it up again 

feather pen

a fool with a pen

VT

15 years old

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