Confessions of a Good Girl: A Poetry Collection

The Wall

I beat my fists against the wall

I tear out the mortar with my fingers

I kick the bricks with my boots

I scream at the wall

I scream at them to let me in

I beat my head against the wall

again

and again

I rent a wrecking ball

I bring 50 friends

they all beat their fists against the wall

for every brick I break

two show up in its place

I am not the enemy

The sniper still aims for my heart

I don't have a golden ticket

I fear they will never let me in