Progress

I’d like to change a mind.

Not minds.

Just one, not plural.

Make it just, make it kind,

Shock his rural

Brain. That’s as closed as a crypt

To bits of “understanding”

And getting what I’m saying

 

Because he’s a No-Nothing

A bigot,

A hater, a jerk

Hates Muslims, hates Catholics

And says it with a smirk.

Homophobic, xenophobic.

And wants a wife that never works.

And if you disagree he simply goes berserk

 

But beyond Him and his jeers,

There’s hate.

Paranoia and fear,

Suspicious looks when it’s late

Or the noose’s leer,

Taped to the dorm room

Just down the hall

That makes you wonder has progress been made at all?

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