My walls are closing in again.
The ones I built
To protect myself
Are what's killing me.
The concrete exterior
Begins to crack
And the floodgates
Start to open.
The people around me
Begin to die.
And I realize how
Faulty my walls were.
I can build and rebuild;
I can recruit new people
To repair the walls.
But they won't do a sufficient job.
No matter who I hire,
Or how hard they "try"
My line of destruction
Will forever be inevitable.
YOU ARE READING
Pleasure or Pain? (Poetry)
PoetryI call this my book of chaos; my sanctuary. When the turmoil inside of me resurfaces, when I've surpassed my tipping point, putting my jumbled thoughts and conflictions into words gives back the control I initially lost.
