Enemies

After all the screaming and cursing is through,
They sit in disgust.
An impenetrable silence falls upon them
And their tempers boil with hatred.
Their minds fill with vicious visions,
While the stubbornness oozes from their bodies.
Solutions are few.
Compromise is impossible.
Why don't they see it my way?
Why can't they just give in?
How could I be wrong?
They sit, separately divided by
An imaginary fence of superiority.
The pickets are formed of color, money and gods.
Some dream of scaling the fence.
Some try it.
But their attempts are useless.
The fence is much too old and much too smart for any man to climb.

by J. B., Brockton, MA