Building us this wall.
Thank you Mister President;
We feel so much safer now!
Struggling to control it
Beyond the hands of gods and men
We are all enslaved
By that which we hold most dear,
Our family and friends,
Our most treasured possessions,
Our loves and passions,
They bind us; these chosen chains.
Shackles that can have no key.
Looming up from fog
ghostly dark, gray-green figure
becomes cedar tree