Talking Walls - 21 Oct 2019

 If the walls could talk

What language would it speak?

Would it speak the language of love?

Language of joy?

Of eternal bliss or language of light?

Would it speak of only the good,

Would the bad be included?

Then I begin to think back,

upon the seconds, the minutes, the hours,

the days, the weeks, the years

of when my walls, the years

of when my walls were the ears and eyes.

If my walls could talk,

what language would it speak?

Would it speak of the language of darkness?

The sleepless nights spent crying?

The nights and days that I bled?

Would it talk how cold it was?

How they witnesses me breaking down and crumbling?

Would it share the times only silence came?

Of the days only pills worked best?

The days each cigarettes inhaled and puffed,

to numb the voices that came from each corner?

Would they speak of times I punched them.

The screams that I let out and tears shed?

Would they talk about that little girl,

who tried but never enough?

If my walls could talk,

I'd forced them to stay silent,

it's soon or never.