If The Wall Could...
If the wall could talk,
would it throw words at me?
the words I deserved to hear?
Not the gentle ones,
nor the comforting kind,
but the cruel ones,
like a brick hurled straight at my face.
If the wall could grow arms,
like the ones I wish I had,
would it wrap them around me?
Would it hold me long enough for me to feel alright again,
even amidst this mess that
I, myself,
have created?
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If the wall had hands,
would it gently wipe away
the tears falling down my cheeks?
Or would it simply watch as walls have always done?
If the wall were me,
would it feel guilty too?
For building barriers between people,
for drawing invisible lines between my soul and theirs,
simply because
I was too afraid
to trust anyone enough to let them in?
And if the wall were them,
would it give me one last chance?
One chance to mend what my own hands have broken?
Would it let me make things right,
to undo the distance I’ve created,
so that this curse I’ve carried
would finally cease to haunt me while I’m still alive?
Or would the wall remain silent,
leaving me with nothing
but the echoes of everything I wish
I had done
differently?
