The Walls

The power and pressure the the mind.

Yes, I'm a little weird and at times confused, but that doesn't matter to me. A battle wages on between my mind and my heart everyday. And who will win? Thoughtless chatter surrounds me, coming from lips that utter hate and lies. Yet I've found solace in myself somewhere. Some place that is hidden and secret from the rest. Somewhere which opens its doors to the weary, the unfulfilled. Somewhere that understands. A room in a corner that's quiet, aside from my own thoughts that echo off the walls. The walls scream all the things I am, and all the things I'll never be. They reflect what I've seen and what I hope. They send flashes of what's to come. The walls get loud sometimes, while quiet toward others. They support the room that seems to close around me, and suffocate, and constrict. So we push back against the walls, tell them what to say. So they can reflect how we feel. But what happens when the walls don't listen, and yell at you. When the room crushes your soul. What happens when your room in the corner becomes a prison. That holds every bad though and memory, and holds you hostage. Your room in the corner fought back. A room created by your own hand, your thoughts, your mind. 

Author's Note

Read and review, thanks.