The Museum is a glass monstrosity,

It is an abortion of architecture.

Built to please the eye’s of those not yet born.


In a Wing Designated “European Conflict”

there are Weapons displayed with gruesome glee,

Tools once held by young mens hands.


Outside in the courtyard refreshments are available.

Children are laughing and playing, joyous noises.

Old men sit, quietly staring at their palms.


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