“Do you want to be another brick on the wall, or maybe, even on the floor?”
Gun Roswell

Just, a few bricks

When they laid down the bricks
And added some mortar in between
They did not realize the slick
Particle slipping just there unseen
Once the wall grew taller
The particle fitted in, smaller

But as the years went by
One by one on, just like on the fly
The particle got a lot bigger
Until it could no longer stick there
Bursting out of it’s confined space
It made with a loud bang its way

Soon enough, rolling in the floor
Made of bricks, of course
But the participle, no longer small
Just let it self, casually out the door
Into the great wide world it ventured with a smile
To look for something more outside the life
Of the existence of just another brick on the wall