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Deirdre Faith

Published on: 29 Nov 2008 by pensivevide

My Walls

I’m solitary,

Tired of yelling at the walls,

The walls in my room,

Irritating are their squalls.


They talk about their lives,

I Crave quite, peace of mind,

I Try to break loose,

But in my room I am confined.


They hear only their voices,

I’m losing self-control,

Am I so invisible?

I’m only seen in bits, not as a whole.


They’re so dead and cold,

Cold of feeling, are each cell wall,

I’m known as nothing,

Nothing at all,


All they know is what they want to know.



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