Your hands are rough
from the years spent
building the walls
that surround you.
You picked each stone,
and placed it with care
to gaurd you from the evils
you grew with.
My hands are soft,
ut not for long.
It is my turn to
scar my fingers
as I rip each brick
from the wall around you.
I will not stop until
you are just as exposed
as I am.
.