no. 7 [Feedback Request]

on sides of a valley, there lay cities two one city was red, the other city was blue and if one so happened to trespass betwixt the town would cry out, and throw lots of bricks

no matter of excuses could evade such a crime to be found with blue on you in a red-colored clime “it was the bullies, miss, I washed my hands in the sink!” to be lashed by the teacher for hands stained with blue ink

red was tradition! red was order! red was pure, and red was right. the soft pleas in red chapels hoped that blues would see the light and a softer prayer followed that those lost would soon return, though the chances that they would diminished with the candle’s burn

and once in every great while, a hero from afar dashing over the horizon, leaving no small scar of blue in his trail, being welcomed by the true great city, on condition that he abandon every drop of blue

what a blessing! what a pleasure! what an honor, what a treat. to see the light, turn from his ways, and take his privileged seat “oh that we could instill,” thought reds, “the virtue in his heart into each and every red, indeed, those we’ve seen depart.”

and yet unaware were the reds, in this moment that like parties had occurred for each red who’d left their home that flowers, praises, and celebrations too were happening as often in the city of blue

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