Wall

I built

up a wall made of bottles and cans and perched high

up on it until

I believed that what

I saw and what

I said

was beautiful and true.

I built

up that fortress, at once feeling tall but languid with voices that said

I was

small

all alone in my crow’s nest of

lies.

I put

myself

into smaller and smaller black boxes confessing to not

hing up until now. There’s this hairline fracture creepi

ng across my mind and a light weakly streaming throu

gh the cracks in the  wa

ll. But it’s still winter’s l

ight, and still a confessi

onal, and now

I know how sm

all I am looking

up at

that

wall.

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One Response to “Wall”

  1. Nice. “Alone in my crow’s nest of lies.”

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