Crimson Truth

Red, red bricks.
Your gates have worn the faces of centuries.
Your statues have weathered wars and fought storms.
Your halls have clamored with secrets and whispered with chatter.
Your mortar has touched luminaries and welcomed lunatics.
Your fields have driven scholars and inspired athletes.
But you, yourself, are merely a decrepit husk:
You have upheld a name, but little else.

Red, red bricks.
I admire you as I admire school projects—
Surprised that hot glue and senseless hope still hold you together.

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