I am a wall. No gates for entry and no back door to slip in through.

I am a wall. Bricks made from insecurities and cement made from the brutal judgement I face everday.

I am a wall. My exterior remains the calm, collected and unpanicked even when my intetior collapses upon itself.

I am a wall. Love slips through the pores in the bricks making me wear my heart on my sleeve, much to my despair.

I am a wall. When people treat me poorly and insult me, I let it run off my weather-proof walls.

I am a wall, but even walls crack sometimes.