What Place Am I?

Windows of time,
Pass through this place,
A poem of history,
Written on the walls,
Marks of hate, and
Lines of war,
To every end to the left,
and to the right,
People to make resolution,
Only to die,
To be a market for communication,
To be a mode of transportation,
Only to be swept away by paint,
Wrappers unfold to resolve conflicts,
To bribe things kept under walls of stone,
To be washed away by an undertow of words,
Undertow of debate,
To be written on walls,
With marks of hate, and
Line of war.





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