I am a wall,
A thick, stone wall,
At least a man,
Surrounded by walls.

I built them myself,
I'm sure it would help,
At least a little,
Those amazing walls.

From the outside it looks grey,
Thick colourless stones of pain,
Of no interest, of desolation,
In total isolation.

But inside, oh wow,
I've painted it with amazing colours,
And those very walls who keep people away,
Comfort me in ways indescribable.

The walls are lined with rich tapestry,
The floors of lush carpets and pillows,
The from the ceilings hang lights,
To illuminate a hundred rooms.

And yet, no one...
No one to share the beauty,
The richness of my inner walls,
The walls I made.

Seductive voices whisper,
And as softly and subtly as the whispers are,
Our screaming consciences as loud as a battle cry,
Are (chosen to be) blocked off completely.

Explicitly voices whisper in my ears,
The voices that we eventually succumb to,
(Well, most of us),
And the excuse:
*"I'm only human."

The times I spent with you,
Are like times spent in magic portals,
Through which I stepped into,
To remove myself from reality,
Like a cellophane tape from paper...

And I have brought that dream
From the other side of the portal into my reality...

This reality unfortunately,
Cannot merge with the existing reality,
And therefore remains hidden from everyone,
With the exception of those,
Close enough to the bubble I have created,

To either silently notice or to be curious....

Stings of poison,
Every word that I hear.
Deep into the core of the heart,
Where its effects cannot be cured.

Stakes of wood,
Cut deep into flesh,
Yes I'm dead to myself,
If that was your intention.

So much pain, so much hurt,
And right after I've felt so much,
You make do like nothing's happened.
All meaningless emotions.

Wasted...

Yes,
Maybe I don't admit I'm not right,
And that's because I have a good defense,
It's because I'm not wrong.

I miss those midnight walks,
Those alone times with sticks and stones and rock...

Clad in a thick jacket,
Earphones in my ear sockets...

Not for the music though,
But to keep away that eerie silence that seems to flow...

I miss those walks,
When to myself I talk...

That somehow by being alone,
I could free those bottled up feelings my heart borne,

That somehow all those emotions,
By the moonlight would dissipate and with nature find perfection...

I wish I could see myself as another,
Seeing what other people saw but don't know for sure...

I always think the darkness helped,
It seemed to shroud and protect...

The day did not have that,
It was filled with eyes, and stares and ALL of that...

People are afraid of the dark,
It has that feeling so bleak and stark...

But ah, those midnight walks...

How I miss those silent times...

The dark was not really dark...

For nothing can compare with the dark hole of my heart...