i can't escape these walls built of brick,
enclosing me, surrounding me
half a dozen speckles of light emerge from tiny holes in the stone
i run my hand down the terracotta wall,
bumpy, like prickles the soles of my feet once collected,
as i dashed through the meadow
filled with sharp blades of grass
oh how naive of me
every time i crack, break, demolish the brick,
there's another wall waiting for me, patiently, on the other side
however, it is comforting, even reassuring,
if there was no wall after the next,
i'd fear i would float away
- 06.03.19
- Author: maddi h (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: April 26th, 2019 06:35
- Comment from author about the poem: i wrote this while i was on an art trip at an old rustic town, which was very inspirational !
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 5
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