This is my attack on Colonialism and the supposed glory of Patriotism...
Two boys strode along the beach,
Brothers hand in hand.
Who choose a place, their right place
To build castles upon the sand.
The sand was plain and empty
For each brother to make their own.
To piece together a perfect place,
A place their dreams called home.
Both began from the bottom up,
And choose to make their bases.
Each brother glanced one to another:
Bright smiles across their faces.
Upon the bases grew up walls,
To protect against the sea.
Because without solid protection
What kind of world would it be?
These castles began with love,
Soon love was replaced by pride.
Pride to build the strongest castle
To stand firm against the tide.
What came next could be decisive,
Who builds the greater tower.
A tower tall and unconquerable,
Would surely lead onto power.
These brothers were tyrant leaders,
Leading their castles high.
High enough to fly their flags
Strong and proud in the sky.
These flags would be concluding
To symbolise all their land.
What that world could lead to,
In their castle upon the sand.
When those castles we’re completed,
The brothers left for the night.
The sun went low into the haze
And the castles went out of sight.
Morning came and the brother returned,
No longer hand in hand.
To check their perfect creations,
Their castles made of sand.
Each castle was tough, resilient
The walls surely would not crumble?
The towers stand defiant,
They surely cannot tumble?
The brothers looked to each other:
Their castles lay blown aside.
Washed away like feeble stones,
Victims of the tide.
No flying flags unconquerable,
They were strewn across the land.
They symbolised all of their world:
Broken castles made of sand.