I watch as the man in the orange suit
Begins to paint the wall.
With the white paint,
The memories depart.
A thousand tragic scrawlings,
A hundred artistic moments,
One united front.
Washed away by the ‘cleansing blanket’ of our society.
Soon, the fight will be over,
And with it,
Our independence will die.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
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