Brick By Brick
I build a wall, brick by brick,
with every insult thrown.
Carefully cemented, so as to leave
no cracks, no holes, no weakness.
I can count them now,
and each cold hard brick has a face, a name.
As each brick is placed,
I feel less despair, and less pain.
As each row is completed,
I feel angrier, and more confident.
I am stronger with each brick,
I am tougher with each row,
No one can hurt me.
But before I place the last brick,
I look out one last time at the world
that has used me for it's playtoy.
Beyond my carefully placed bricks,
I see someone, a taunter, come to play again.
And I see that he also has a wall of bricks.
And each one has a face and a name.
And I know, without looking, that
half of those bricks have my face,
my name.
Each brick I had placed on my own wall
made it easier and easier to throw them.
That last brick is the final addition to
my shield, my bubble, my wall.
Without it, I might as well have no wall at all.
And then where will I be?
I look out the tiny hole that remains in my fortress,
shielding me from the cruelty of man
and I slowly, carefully place
the last brick on the floor.
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