Walls.
They stand tall.
They supposedly shield us from what is wrong, but how are we to know what lies beyond them if we have never been beyond them?
Soon, our precious stones, built to form a fortress of infinite protection, will erode and crash down to our feet: if they don't kill us first.
Escape the walls, before you are crushed by them: before you are crushed by fear.
YOU ARE READING
Constellations Of The Mind
PoesíaThoughts pulled at random from the jumble of mischief I claim to be my mind.
