these four walls know everything.
i thought they were only walls;
just corners holding up a ceiling,
just quiet spaces between my breaths.
but at night,
when the world fades and the silence grows heavy,
when my mind begins to speak again,
louder than any voice i’ve ever heard;
the same pain returns.
the same wound,
still open,
still breathing beneath my ribs.
and i sit here,
trapped within these four walls,
wondering if the red on my hands
ever truly washed away—
or if the night
just hides it better.
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 9:54 PM UTC
these four walls know everything.
i thought they were only walls;
just corners holding up a ceiling,
just quiet spaces between my breaths.
but at night,
when the world fades and the silence grows heavy,
when my mind begins to speak again,
louder than any voice i’ve ever heard;
the same pain returns.
the same wound,
still open,
still breathing beneath my ribs.
and i sit here,
trapped within these four walls,
wondering if the red on my hands
ever truly washed away—
or if the night
just hides it better.
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