I’m making a wall
With bricks of exasperation and mortar of refusal to communicate
To shield against the drills of repeated insults
The jackhammers of bad, painful memories.
I make the bricks from fear of vulnerability and negative experiences
The mortar is mixed with self-loathing, anger, and hate.
I make this wall to hide from the angry mobs
Of noisy name-callers
Of false friends
Of angry acquaintances
Of conceited classmates
Of repeated rejections.
But alas, this wall has cracks
Little tiny cracks
That let the painful spotlight of ridicule in
That let the insults in
That let the lies, the betrayals, the false smiles of allies with knives hidden behind their backs in.
They shall be the mortar that fixes these cracks.
Image: What I Found at Murray Hall, Megha Patel