The Wall

The wall is my foster child- someone else’s flesh and blood, someone else’s sweat that wets my pillow. I touch it with my hands; I try to soothe the fire. The sun steals our reflection- turns it pale and makes me old. The wall was my armour; it melted into rubble to save me from the wrecking ball. The wall holds me in its uterus, pushes me out when I am not asleep. The wall inhales the hot air and fills ice in my nostrils. The wall is my light in the tower- The wall is my sinking ship.


Published by: flatlined84

A thinker outside the quarantine zone. The words on this blog will assault your senses, would make you curse in the holy name of Bard. If that's not enough, leave a piece of your mind in the comments section- the writer is on the dole and is always hungry.

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