My walls anchored to the ground
Standing tall and proud
Years of training yet
your optimism still pierced through
You possess this hope that inspires those around you
Easy to dismiss at first
To smile
To nod
To pretend
To let it be and not ****
but even the constant flow of water can make a dent in a rock
It was slow
And I can’t tell you when my walls turned to snow
But when they did you were there
They melted beneath your light
Providing me with a fresh breath of air
You shared with me your hope
I allowed new walls to grow
This time they had doors
Then reality struck
And the doors became locked
Boarded up
my walls stood strong once again
Not for me
But for you
To share what I possessed
Statistics
Logic
That’s what I know best
Protecting you from my hope
Because where we go from here
I don’t know

Writing is my safety net,
That I abandon far too often,
In the fear of finding answers
Of the inevitable truth hidden,
Behind the well protected walls,
One would call anxiety

You scream
I scream
And still
No one can hear us
I can’t hear you
You can’t hear me
I can’t hear me

We scream:
- you did
- No you did
- You broke me
- You hurt me

We turn our backs
We cry on the walls chest
We crawl back
To each other
I hide under your shirt
And continue crying

We cry and
We want to be
What we’ll never be:
Close.

Fractured light gleams off the walls
Reflecting off the Rolex strewn casually across his immaculate desk
Its platinum plating smirking at the watchers
From under the diamond rock.

He wanders through the halls
Stares at the struggles of those below him
Through the translucent walls.

Reaches out a hand
But can never touch the world
Obscured by the diamond windows
That are his prison.

Tilted, rounded walls make caricatures
Of lives, of livelihoods, of people
Like funhouse mirrors in the playground
Of life.

He winds his way through the streets
Of those outside his cell.
Staring through the milky panels
That bar him from his subjects.

Though he can never touch, never truly see
It is he who holds the power
above the watchers below.

How many times
Have I put my knuckles through these walls?
Not enough times evidently
Because my blood still boils
Rage surging through contracting muscles
At least it was only the wall