I am living in a capsule
I am shielded from outside forces,
hurting
pain
and
sallow emotions

these are orange

I am shielded by this boundary
that my mind constructed
A prisoner to my own ways
forever defending me
from your
rude
and stabbing
jagged jars

and your

sharp
and jarring
warnings

these are red

it may sound nice
that I am immune

this is blue

But the privilege of the good emotions
all the
warm
and happy
delicious laughs

which are yellow

I no longer have

because I am a prisoner
of cause and effect-
you cause and I deflect

Now I am an outsider on the inside
forever watching all the colors
as they
bounce off my capsule wall.

Just as wetness gather in the corner of my eyes
Or my heart goes wild thumping, panicking,
a fierce warrior arises with armor, shielding,
standing between me and the entire world,
ready to deflect anything that befalls me.
The warrior of self comes to my defense  
crooning to me in the most heavenly voice
whispering the most assuring words
with belief in me, chasing away distress.  
Well composed and indifferent as  I may seem today
the warrior was born when I had sunk to the ground,
crawling, weeping, struggling to get back up on my foot.
When I rose, there arose a warrior too in my mind.
Thence not a drop of tear I could drop on the ground.

This heart can only be rejected and burned so many times and still allow itself to open - this heart is not as strong as some might think. Hearts don't handle stress or pain, they just build walls so that people have a difficult time getting in.

This heart might believe that whoever is patient enough to find a way around the walls will treat it well upon arrival since it took so much time and strategy, but the heart has mistaken perseverance for stubbornness.

This heart might suppose that whoever is brave enough to scale the walls will be willing to serve as a protector since it is not courageous enough to face the darkness itself, but the heart has mistaken valor for recklessness.

This heart might hope that whoever is strong enough to break through the walls will be able to fight the tumultuous war raging within so that it may obtain some rest, but the heart has mistaken fortitude for belligerence.

This heart must build walls in part, of course, to keep careless strangers from strolling in and wreaking havoc, but most importantly to protect others from itself by trapping the whispers and shadows inside the walls. While it will always dream of The One who will conquer the walls and stay to provide light and warmth, it has decided that the world would hurt less if people stopped trying to love the broken hearts such as itself.

You'll be spending your days
Defending this place
To which
You have no ties
Defenses are weak
People are meek
You'll be spending your days
Defending this place
Covered in lies

but I know what i dont have
i don't have the time
the walls are closing in on me
these walls the ones i created
the closer they get the less i can breathe
roaming in circles gets me nowhere
but its all i know how to do
by now the only thing i can do
is stand here and let my dizzy mind
get crushed by these four towers of impending doom

My father said, "Son, your poetry is technically proficient and you certainly have mastered style, but you just say the words outright. You don't hide the meaning behind guile."

He told me that poetry was for interpretation of the reader, I was just to merely guide feeling but it was up to the reader to have to think.

Well, Dad. I think I'll have to disagree.

For me, poetry was a way to confront my fears of failure. To say the words I couldn't speak. To handle the loss of friends and family. To cope with the things that make me weak.

I suppose what I'm saying, Father, is I think poetry can be a narrative, just like any prose. So I'll keep writing the way I do, and hopefully it'll be good enough for you.

And if I'm wrong, I won't be great. I will fade into the obscurity of eternity, but somehow that seems satisfactory to me.

You're not displaying sentiments of sadness and deepened emotion simply because you wish that I, through hearing them, may feel a sense of calm and clarity over what has been done.
No.
You're speaking this ******* so that you feel less guilty, that you lessen the pain on yourself, knowing that you've said I'm sorry to the person who calls themself victim.
You ease your conscience whichever way you see fit.
And I'll ease mine.